


Heart of Fire

by Pixelfun20



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dustpelt is a Good Bro, Firestar is Tired, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'll update tags as I go, Mistystar is the Only Cat Getting Anything Done, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-07-31 11:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20114722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pixelfun20/pseuds/Pixelfun20
Summary: The Dark Forest had lost, but at a devastating price. With the clans at the edge of extinction, Firestar—quite accidentally—gives them a second chance.“Peace shall be but a memory, and Water and Fire shall rule the forest,” Spottedleaf turned to Bluestar. “That is the prophecy.”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a completed story.
> 
> I just wanted to get that out there as soon as possible. I began writing this around two or so years ago, and eventually dropped it in favor of some of my other Warriors and MCU stories (most of which are yet to be published here, but are on my FFN profile under the same name). This is around 24k words long, has five chapters and a prologue, and by now I consider it more of a character study than an actual fanfiction. I'll update the chapters every couple days or so until we're all caught up.
> 
> I don't plan on finishing this, so if anyone wants to pick this up, just let me know.

Cold was the first thing Bramblestar felt when he woke up. It penetrated his skin, ruffling his fur until the Thunderclan leader forced himself to crack his eyes open.

The leaf-bare wind was cold and dry, forcing Bramblestar to fluff up his fur in a vain attempt to keep himself warm. Shaking himself, the leader of Thunderclan exited his nest and entered the gorge, preparing for yet another long day.

The sight that greeted him once the tabby tom entered the gorge was not a good one. The fresh-kill pile was almost non-existent, and the clearing was painfully empty. Only a few cats were lounging in the camp, and even they were ragged and thin.

Dovewing, sitting next to Rosepetal as they conversed quietly over a pitifully thin mouse, rose her head in respect as he passed by them. Both had ribs showing, and each had a pained look in their eyes. Honestly, Bramblestar couldn’t blame them; Rosepetal’s brother, Mousewhisker, and Dovewing’s mate, Bumblestripe, had both just recently died in the greencough outbreak that was ravaging the clan. Next to the two she-cats was one of Dovewing’s three surviving kits, Ashenpaw, who was much too thin for a growing apprentice. Her mother had given the apprentice an entire vole—a rarity in these times—and the young apprentice was savagely digging into it. Bramblestar didn’t blame her. Ashenpaw probably hadn’t eaten so much in almost a moon.

Four seasons had passed since the clans had defeated the Dark Forest, and ever since, instead of getting better, the clans’ situation had only gotten worse and worse. Immediately following the initial battle, a great famine had struck the land, leaving the already weak from battle clans crippled. A fire, started by twoleg kits (according to Riverclan) had started only a moon later, ripping across Riverclan and razing more than half of Shadowclan’s territory before it had finally been stopped by rain and Twoleg monsters. 

Afterwards, the clans had been given a brief respite from their trials, and had slowly begun to rebuild, but it was not to last. A family of foxes soon moved into Riverclan territory, and it had taken a combined effort from all four of the weakened clans to drive them out, but not before Mistystar, who had lost several lives prior to the attack, died killing the lead fox. 

Now, in the onset of leafbare, a devastating bought of Greencough was travelling through the clans. No one really knew where it had started, but soon, it was ravaging all four of the clans. Already, Jayfeather and Leafpool’s den was filled with sick cats, and everyone else was stretched to their limits trying to provide for them and their clanmates. Overall, though, Thunderclan was most likely the least hurt by the plague. They had no queens, and Purdy, who had starved to death during the famine, had left the elder’s den empty, so at least there were no young or old to worry about. 

But that relief also brought the onset of worry. There were only warriors and apprentices in the clan now, and Bramblestar worried for its future. None of his warriors seemed to be about to bear kits anytime soon, so there would no new apprentices for quite some time. The Thunderclan leader was well aware that kits were the future of his clan, but with no kits coming anytime soon, would that mean that Thunderclan would just die out?

Bramblestar shook the worries out his head. Dying clan or not, he was Thunderclan’s leader and it was his job to run the camp. He nodded his head to Dovewing and Rosepetal, and padded over to the medicine den. Already, he could smell the scents of sickness coming from the den. Coming closer, he nearly bumped into Leafpool, who was exiting the small cave.

“Oh, Bramblestar!” the older of the two medicine cats hurriedly bowed her head in respect. “Excuse me, I didn’t see you just now.”

“It’s fine,” the Thunderclan leader responded, dipping his head as well, before looking into the medicine den. “How are your patients?”

“Not good,” Leafpool sighed, scratching the ground with a paw. “Brackenfur is not as young as he used to be, and sickness has driven him close to death. Spiderleg is no better, and Briarlight passed in the night. I was just coming out to announce her death.”

“She walks with Starclan now,” Bramblestar replied, raising his muzzle to the sky, as if it could give them all the answers to their problems. “Have you received any signs from them?”

Leafpool’s ear twitched. “Nothing clear,” she answered. “But Jayfeather had a dream recently. If you need anything, ask him.”

Bramblestar nodded, and the skinny she-cat continued on, to where the two remaining senior warriors, Graystripe and Brightheart, were sitting. As there were no elders, the tradition of burying the dead fell to them. Personally, though, Bramblestar worried for his two eldest warriors. Graystripe should’ve retired to the elder’s den moons ago, with Brightheart not far behind him. Still, though, the two oldest Thunderclan cats refused to give up their warrior status, and were extremely stubborn in their position. Bramblestar shook his head. Graystripe had never been the same after Sandstorm, Millie, and Bumblestripe had died, and the same could be said for Brightheart with Cloudtail and Whitewing. Both seemed determined to work themselves to death before they joined the elder’s den. 

As he watched, Leafpool stepped towards them, murmuring into their ears. Brightheart stiffened, and Graystripe let out a mournful yowl. Brambleclaw sighed. The gray tom only had his sole surviving kit, Blossomfall, now. 

“I see Leafpool has informed Graystripe about Briarlight.”

Bramblestar turned around to see Jayfeather, his pale blue eyes staring back at him. The blind medicine cat looked small and much more vulnerable than he had ever been before the battle against the Dark Forest. His whiskers drooped and his tail dragged almost lifelessly against the floor. The deaths of all his clanmates, Bramblestar knew, was taking its toll on the younger medicine cat.

“Yes,” The tabby tom replied. “It’s a tragedy, for sure. Graystripe has almost no one left. How is it affecting you?”

Jayfeather shook himself, revealing multiple ribs, before responding. “I should’ve expected it. Briarlight had been off and on for at least two seasons now. The greencough was only the last nail in the coffin. But,” he sighed. “It still hurts.”

“I know,” Bramblestar murmured. Silence descended between him and his foster son.

After several heartbeats, Squirrelflight exited the warriors’ den. She glanced around the camp before her eyes landed on her leader and mate, and bounded over to them, green eyes alight.

“Squirrelflight,” Bramblestar acknowledged. “You are ready to send out today’s patrols, I assume?”

“I already sent out a hunting patrol with Lionblaze,” she reported. “They’re off by the Windclan to see if they can catch a stray rabbit or two.”

Bramblestar nodded. “Was there a reason you came over here?” he asked, not unkindly. 

“Yes,” the Thunderclan deputy answered. “Have you seen Leafpool? I need to talk to her.”

“She’s coming over right now,” the tabby tom remarked, looking over to the medicine cat in question. Squirrelflight nodded to the two and rushed over to her sister, hurriedly begging to converse with her.

“Well, something has Squirrelflight energetic today,” Jayfeather commented, and Bramblestar nodded, making a mental note to ask her about it later.

“Anyways,” he began, changing the subject. “Leafpool told me you had a dream last night. Care to tell me about it?”

Jayfeather’s tail twitched. “I don’t know,” he replied, licking his chest. “It was odd, to say the least. I was in a clan camp, but it wasn’t the Thunderclan camp or any of the other clans’; at least not the ones here. There were two cats conversing on top of a large rock. One of them was Bluestar, but she seemed a lot older than she is now, in Starclan. The other. . . was Spottedleaf.”

“What?!” Bramblestar exclaimed, fur fluffing out. Everyone knew that the famous Thunderclan medicine cat had died during the battle against the Dark Forest. She had left Starclan, never to be seen again. “What did they tell you?” he pressed.

“Nothing,” Jayfeather responded. “They didn’t speak to me. Didn’t even acknowledge my presence. I don’t think that they could see me.”

“What happened?” Bramblestar questioned.

“They were talking about normal clan politics, but it was worrying, like our situation right now,” Jayfeather continued. “Something about being beaten in their own territory; things weren’t very clear. But what they said next was. I think it was a prophecy.”

Bramblestar’s ears pricked up, and he motioned for the medicine cat to continue. 

“Spottedleaf silenced for a moment, then uttered these words:  _ Peace shall be but a memory, and Water and Fire shall rule the forest. _ ”

“Water and Fire…” Brambleclaw murmured. “The two extremes? Perhaps she was prophesying another calamity about to befall us?”

“Maybe,” Jayfeather responded halfheartedly, before they heard a loud coughing start inside his den. “I certainly hope not. The prophecies were supposed to have ended after we defeated the Dark Forest. Excuse me, but one of my patients seems to have woken up.”

“Thank you for telling me this,” the leader of Thunderclan replied. “We can talk more about this dream later.”

Jayfeather nodded, before ducking behind the lichen that covered his den to care for his patients.

Bramblestar shook his head and padded off to his den, about to go and see if he could organize a border patrol, when he heard something.

It was a crash. Not a crash of something falling, but a sound that was a lot harder to place. He looked around, but none of his clanmates had reacted. The Thunderclan leader blinked. Was he hearing things?

The crash came again, but this time, it was louder. Bramblestar’s eyes widened, a memory tickling the back of his mind. He had heard those sounds once before—when he had made his trip to the sun-drown-place to find Midnight. The tabby tom opened his mouth, about to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, the flooding sensation of salt and water filled his mouth. Bramblestar coughed, desperate to breathe, but all he tasted was the salt water going down his throat, causing him to gag. His feet became have heavy as the leader desperately heaved for breath, but no air could be found, only liquid. 

The camp around him began to darken as Bramblestar collapsed to the ground. Distantly, he heard the his clanmates rush towards him, and Squirrelflight and Leafpool shouting something, but it was soon overcome by an agonizing pressure in his lungs and the roar of water.

Finally, everything began to dull from lack of oxygen, and Bramblestar’s last thought before blacking out was:

_ Well, this is certainly the weirdest way to die. _

* * *

The salty sea air blew into Firestar’s face, blowing his star-speckled fur behind him and chilling him to bone. He looked healthy, orange fur waving in the wind, but his face was quite the opposite, furrowed in uneasy thought. 

The scene laid out before him was breathtaking. The sky was a pale, perfect blue, cotton ball clouds floating over the deep blue water. Firestar was crouched on top of a large cliff, a tail-length or two from the edge. Below him, saltwater waves crashed up into ridge, sending a salty spray into the former kittypet’s fur.

Suddenly, the grass twitched, and the orange tom jumped up, surprised, to stare at the tall grass. After a moment, a lithe figure entered the scene. She looked strong and beautiful, with blue-gray fur and ice blue eyes. 

“Mistystar!” Firestar exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same for you,” the former Riverclan leader replied. “You’ve been gone all day now. Sandstorm’s been sick with worry.”

Firestar sighed, bowing his head and turning back to stare back at the ocean. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I needed time to think.”

“About the clans again?”

“Yes. They worry me, Mistystar! Thunderclan grows weaker every passing day, and RIverclan is on the verge of collapse!”

The Riverclan Leader flinched, and Firestar immediately felt a wave of regret. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Mistystar held up her tail to stop him.

“You’re right,” she sighed, walking up to Firestar to sit next to him. “I worry, too.” She looked out over the ocean, and her lips quirked to form the barest hint of a smile. “The view is beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Firestar, sounding thankful for the change in subject. “It helps me sort out my thoughts. The older cats call this place the End of the World.”

“End of the World…” Mistystar trailed off. “I think I like that. Seems appropriate.”

Firestar nodded, agreeing. “It always gives me time to think,” he replied. “I worry for the clans. The prophecy of three was supposed to be the end of our troubles, and though inter-clan fighting has finally stopped, things have only seemed to have gotten worse since it has been fulfilled.”

The former Riverclan leader flicked an ear. “Well, there’s not much you can do about it,” she counseled. “You’ve already done so much for us.” A tinge of amusement crept into her voice. “Try to let someone else take care of it for a change.”

“Easy for you to say,” Firestar muttered, not-so-subtly rolling his eyes. Mistystar cuffed him gently over the head. 

“Come on,” she turned to go back the way she came. “Sandstorm said that if you aren’t back by sundown, she’ll skin you alive.”

The former Thunderclan leader laughed. “That sounds like Sandstorm, alright!” He remarked, ruffling his fur.

Suddenly, a particularly large wave from the ocean smashed into the cliff face. Firestar let a yowl of surprise, jumping up to his paws. Abruptly, the ground beneath his paws began to crumble into the sea below, and the former kittypet found himself scrambling for safe ground. However, nothing but air could be found and Firestar plummeted into the seawater below.

The last thing he glimpsed was Mistystar’s shocked and fearful face before he crashed into the ocean. Saltwater flowed into his mouth and nose and the former Thunderclan leader instantly regretted never learning how to properly swim. The water drug down on his fur, increasing his weight and making harder for him to stay afloat as he sunk further and further from the surface. He desperately paddled with his paws, but nothing came of it.

He began to run out of air, and Firestar desperately tried to swim faster, but the water itself seemed to be pulling himself into its depths, whispering in his ear to just give up and to just let the water take him away. He had a horrid flashback of Bluestar’s death, so long ago. Was he destined to share her fate, only for eternity?

All of a sudden, the scruff of Firestar’s neck was pulled upwards. He looked up to see a blurry shape moving against the current, but steadily losing.

The edges of his vision began to turn black, and an eerie sense of calm replaced the overwhelming urge for oxygen. Before he knew it, the world dissolved into nothing.


	2. Chapter 1

The first thing Firestar noticed when he came to was that he was warm. Something very comfortable, yet not quite comparing to the moss nests he was used to, surrounded him, warming his fur gently.

Where was he? The events of just a few moments ago—sitting at the Edge of the World, talking with Mistystar, then the ground crumbling and drowning in the ocean’s depths—flashed back into his mind, and Firestar’s eyes snapped open, fur standing on end as he scrambled to stand up and gain his bearings.

An unfamiliar setting loomed over him. He was in a soft bed, inside into something distinctly twoleg-looking. A strange, smooth rock covered the floor, with rectangular wooden tree trunks on the sides of the room, pressed to the wall. Where was he…? A name popped into his head. A kitchen. Right. Most Twoleg nests had those.

…

Wait, what?!

Firestar’s initial panic faded into confusion. How in Starclan’s name did he end up here? Not only was he in a twoleg nest, but he felt different. Slower. Everything around him seemed a little bit bigger than he was used to, and he felt heavier. He was also clean and dry, surprising to say the least, as he had just been drowning in the ocean.

Suddenly, the former Thunderclan leader started. Mistystar! Had she jumped in after him once he had fallen into the ocean? That would explain the cat who had tried to pull him up, but no one else was here….

Shaking himself, Firestar stepped out of the comfy nest—a  _ bed _ , if he remembered correctly—and stepped onto the rock— _ tile _ —shivering as the cold seeped out from the tile and crept into his pads. Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, Firstar walked out of the kitchen, blatantly ignoring the kittypet food and water next to his bed, and walked to the kitchen door, a large sense of foreboding filling his belly as an idea started to form in his head. If he was right, then inside the door should be a smaller flap for him, and a way outside.

He was right, and the flame-colored tom shakily stepped through the flap, wincing at the unfamiliar feeling of the wavy material against his skin, and strode outdoors.

It was late at night. The gibbous moon shone in the sky above him, sending beams of moonlight down to illuminate the garden before him. The tauntingly familiar close-cropped grass and wooden fence stared back at him, and the world seemed to spin.

It was impossible.

There was no logical way, but everything here seemed to prove his idea.

Firestar felt himself fall to the ground.

He wasn’t Firestar anymore.

He wasn’t a warrior.

He wasn’t even in Starclan.

He was six moons old.

He was a kittypet.

He was Rusty.

* * *

Firestar wasn’t sure how long he sat there on the steps of his old twoleg nest, staring out into the garden as he tried to absorb what exactly had happened to him. Eventually, though, streaks of light began to cover the previously-dark sky, and the old Thunderclan leader—no, kittypet, he was no longer a Warrior—stood, shaking out the soreness in his bones.

_ Okay, _ the tom tried to reason with himself.  _ I’m in the past, before any of this craziness began. Somehow, I’ve travelled back in time. I’m not Firestar anymore, I am Rusty. _

Firestar nodded to himself, glad that he had sorted that part of the problem out, and trotted to the edge of the garden, leaping up onto the wooden fence. He forced any sense of the fear and pain of seeing the woods that he had called home so long ago down until he felt it no more. It would do him no good to get lost in the past—future—while he was here. Tilting his head up, the orange tom glanced at the sun, noting how it was barely peeking over the horizon. If he was correct, then Thunderclan’s dawn patrol would be crossing this part of the woods in a half an hour or so. He still had time to explore the territory.

Plan set, the former Thunderclan leader jumped down onto the forest floor, wincing as a pebble shoved itself into his soft pads. Firestar hissed softly, before licking the pebble off gingerly and setting down his paw again. He was going to have to be careful. He might still have his memories of the future, but his body was still that of the kittypet Rusty.

Firestar continued onwards, plunging into the tree line, where he rolled in some ferns to mask his kittypet scent. It would do him no good to be caught by a Thunderclan patrol—or worse, Tigerstar.

The flame-colored tom froze. Tigerstar was still alive, and since he was in the past, he would have to defeat him all over again. Firestar almost moaned. It had been hard enough to kill him the first time! But then again… maybe this time he could save everyone. Maybe he could keep Bluestar alive, and Runningwind and Stonefur. Maybe he could even save Oakheart and Redtail!

Suddenly, a rustling in the brush snapped Firestar out of his thoughts. The former warrior barely had time to ready a battle stance before a brown blur slammed into him, knocking the breath out of the flame-colored kit and slamming him into the ground.

Reacting on pure instinct, Firestar clenched his jaw and heaved upwards, knocking his aggressor—who couldn't have been much older than his present body—off of him.

Firestar leapt to his feet, fur fluffing out and claws unsheathed, taking in the sight of his attacker, who was still on the ground, shaking the dust off his fur. He had heavy, dark brown fur with deep amber eyes that widened once he saw Firestar.

Firestar himself recognized the young cat—who must've just been apprenticed—and he started once he did so.

“Dustpelt?!” He exclaimed, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop himself. At the cat's obvious surprise, Firestar mentally slapped himself.  _ Mouse-brain! Of course he would attack you! He doesn't remember! You've gone back in time! _

“Firestar?” Dustpelt responded, eyes wide. “You recognize me?”

Firestar blinked, shocked. Dustpelt remembered him? But that would mean that…

“You've gone back in time too?” he asked, before quickly backtracking at his old friend's confused stare. “I mean, I think I've gone back in time, and if you remember me that means you came too and—” he flicked his ears and sighed. “It's a long story.”

“Wait, what?” the brown apprentice—warrior? This was confusing—asked. “All I remember is going out hunting with Ferncloud, before I suddenly felt like I was drowning, even though I wasn't anywhere near water. After that, I blacked out and came to in the old Thunderclan apprentice den. Longtail, Sandstorm, and Ravenpaw were sleeping next to me, both looking a lot younger than they had when I had last seen them.” Dustpelt adopted a look of embarrassment. “I'll admit, I panicked and raced straight out of camp. That's when I ran into you.”

“Literally,” Firestar muttered, bending over and licking his ruffled chest hairs. “This… situation… is mostly my fault. I was sitting at the End of the World—Starclan’s sun-drown-place—when the ground beneath me crumbled and I fell in. Something in the water caused us go back in time.”

“If this is some kind of elaborate prank, Firestar, you’ve done a  _ marvelous  _ job.”

“This isn’t a prank. Do you really think I’m capable of creating all of this? You aren’t dreaming, of that I can assure you.”

Dustpelt lashed his tail a couple times, but Firestar noted that the brown tom seemed more frustrated than annoyed at him, thankfully.

“Leave it to you mess things up like this,” he sighed. “You do realize that we're going to have to defeat Tigerstar, the Dark Forest, and travel to the Lake again?” He looked up to the dawn-lit sky. “Starclan, help us.”

“Sorry,” Firestar apologised. Dustpelt snorted.

“‘Sorry?’ That doesn't even begin to cover it,” he growled, and Firestar tensed. The anger passed, though, and the brown tabby relaxed once again. “But if what you're telling me is true, it's not your fault. Do you know of anyone else who might've followed us back?” He snorted to himself. “What about Bluestar or Redtail? They could certainly help out with all of this.”

Firestar shrugged. “I'm not sure… but…” he started suddenly. “Oh, no! Mistystar! She fell in with me! If she came back too then she'll be alone in—”

“Riverclan!” Dustpelt finished, leaping to his feet. “And she'll have no idea what happened. If she makes too much of a scene, then she'll change history!”

“And her clanmates will assume her crazy,” Firestar agreed, also standing up. “It all depends on how far back in time we are. If she's a warrior right now, the consequences will be much more dire. You said you saw Longtail in the apprentice’s den?”

Dustpelt nodded. “And I spotted Mousefur standing vigil—she must've just become a warrior. That means we're at least two moons before you were introduced to the clans. Do you know when Mistystar was made a warrior?”

“In correspondence with me becoming part of the clans? No. But Mistystar is three or four seasons older than me, give or take. It'll be close. Really close. Either way, we have to find her first.”

Dustpelt blinked. “Find Mistystar? But she'll be in—” he scoffed. “Firestar, you cannot be serious! Just because we travelled back in time does not grant you permission to go waltzing into Riverclan territory and go asking for some random cat! We'll be caught for sure!”

“What other choice do we have?” Firestar shot back. “Look, we're in the past. We need to change the future—don't give me that look, we both know the clans were dying out. We’ll have to have Mistystar’s help in this; having a contact in the other clans will help us try and find others who might've been pulled back as well. Not to mention that Mistystar is probably extremely disoriented and confused right now.”

Dustpelt snorted, shaking out his fur. “Why do you have to have such a persuasive voice?” He complained. “Fine. I'll come. But if we're caught, you're the curious kittypet who crossed clan borders while I was chasing you.”

“Fair enough,” Firestar replied. “Let's go. It's past sunrise and the dawn patrols will be out any minute now.”

Dustpelt nodded, waving his tail for his former leader to take the lead.

“Come on, kittypet,” he teased, causing Firestar to roll his eyes. 

“Very funny,” he scolded his old friend, before bounding off into the forest, Dustpelt right on his heels.

* * *

Crossing Thunderclan territory was a lot harder than the two of them had anticipated, especially for Firestar. The former Thunderclan leader was still in kithood, and a kittypet on top of it, which made him extremely out of shape compared to the body he had had in Starclan. Dustpelt, on the other hand, was more fit than he, and lasted longer, but soon he too was panting as they raced across the territory. 

Together, they skirted the edge of the treecut place and the tallpines. Several times they had to stop, either because something had become stuck in Firestar’s embarrassingly soft pads, or they had catch their breath before heading out again. By the time they finally reached Sunningrocks, both were heaving for breath and the sun was well above the horizon.

Firestar sighed, shaking out his aching muscles—really, was he  _ that _ weak as a kittypet? Then again, he was only four moons old—as he and Dustpelt reached the edge of the river dividing the Thunderclan and Riverclan. The Thunderclan apprentice snorted, shaking out his legs. 

“I don’t remember being so slow,” he muttered to himself, and Firestar twitched, a familiar scent washing over his nostrils.

“Down!” he hissed, plunging himself into the reeds growing along the side of the river, praying to Starclan that his orange pelt wouldn’t be too visible in the waterside plants. Next to him, Dustpelt immediately dropped to the ground without protest.

The scent of Riverclan grew stronger, and Firestar peered through the gaps in the reeds to see several cats come into view, obviously on patrol. Dustpelt tensed, and Firestar flicked his tail softly to reassure him. They wouldn’t be seen. Hopefully.

On the other side of the river, four cats walked together, talking, and Firestar raked his memory to place each one of them. At the head of the patrol was Blackclaw, he realised, recognising the senior warrior's smoky black pelt. After him came Loudbelly, and a white and gray cat he didn’t remember. Bringing up the rear of the patrol was no other than…

“Mistystar!” Firestar exclaimed quietly to himself, and Dustpelt whacked him with his tail, shooting him a silencing glare. The orange tom flattened his ears, embarrassed.

Suddenly, Blackclaw stopped, raising his nose in the air, causing the two toms to freeze and try to sink deeper into the plants, if at all possible.

“What is it, Blackclaw?” The black-and-white cat—a she-cat, Firestar realised by the tone in her voice—asked, stopping as well as the patrol came to a halt. “Is something wrong?”

Firestar lowered himself even further, feeling the mud below him sink into his fur.

“I heard something…” The Riverclan warrior murmured, flicking his tail back and forth. “Did any of you hear it? Cloudpetal?”

“No,” the black-and-white she-cat, Cloudpetal, responded, as Loudbelly shook his head. The she-cat glanced over to Mistystar. “Mistypaw? Can you scent anything?”

Mistystar shook her head. “No, mentor,” she replied. “Just some vole on Thunderclan’s side of the border.”

“Well, it was probably nothing,” Blackclaw shook himself out. “Must’ve only been the wind. Nevermind.”

And with that, the patrol continued on. Firestar and Dustpelt kept themselves pressed to the ground as the patrol gradually turned around the bend. The two slowly began to relax as the patrol got out of earshot.

Abruptly, though, they tensed again, as, in the distance, Mistystar stopped, looking over to Cloudpetal and saying something they couldn’t make out. The she-cat paused, then replied, and Mistystar bounded back the way she came as the rest of the Riverclan patrol continued onwards. Firestar blinked, confused. From the way Mistystar had acted, it seemed that she hadn’t gone back in time, so why was she coming back? Had she seen them? If so, why was she coming alone?

As Mistystar reached the point of the river right across from the two toms, she leapt into the water, swimming towards them with purpose. Firestar tensed as Dustpelt’s claws became unsheathed, digging into the mud below them. Mistystar finally crossed the river a few heartbeats after, shaking the water from her glossy pelt. 

“You know, Firestar,” she remarked dutifully. “Next time, don’t go falling off the edge of the World. I was convinced this was all a dream until I saw your fur across the river.” She glanced over at Dustpelt. “And why is Dustpelt here too? Did he somehow jump into the water after us?”

“What...?” Firestar struggled to answer, shocked as he rose out of the mud. 

“You’ve gone back in time as well, I suppose?” Dustpelt asked, shaking the mud out of his fur. “Starclan, I’m going to have to go through all of the trials of being an apprentice all over again! And yes, I got dragged back too, though I’m not sure why. I was out hunting with Ferncloud, and nowhere near the two of you.”

“Have you attracted any attention?” Firestar put in, finally finding his tongue. “We were worried.”

“No,” Mistystar responded, flicking an ear. “Well, I’ve scared Stonefur—paw—out of his fur and Oakheart believes I went temporarily insane, but nothing major, I hope. You?”

“No,” Firestar answered. “I woke up in my old twoleg nest, and ran into Dustpelt when he crashed into me in a panic.”

The Thunderclan warrior cuffed Firestar roughly on the ear. “Quiet, you! You'd be scared witless too if you were suddenly transported into the old camp you haven't seen in seasons!”

“I was. And unlike you, I was stuck in a twoleg nest, which is much more terrifying than the apprentice’s den, if I do say so myself.”

Dustpelt whacked his tail into Firestar’s side, then pretended to have not once the flame-colored tom turned to glare at him, glancing innocently to the side

“ _ Anyways _ ,” Mistystar quickly interrupted before their fight could escalate. “What do we do now? We've established that we're in the past, we don't know how many came back with us, and I think we all agree that the future needs to be changed. But how?”

“Now that is a good question,” Firestar conceded. “And honestly, I have no idea, but I doubt we can stay here long enough to figure that out. Your patrol’s going to get suspicious if you don’t rejoin them soon, and on top of it come back empty-pawed. I'm certain Thunderclan’s noticed that Dustpelt’s missing by now as well.”

Dustpelt started. “I don't know why I didn't think of Thunderclan missing me,” he remarked. “I guess I'm not used to actually working in a clan, especially as an apprentice. It's been a while.”

Mistystar nodded. “For now, let's just quickly lay down some ground rules and work out a place to meet; Firestar, your Twoleg nest is  _ behind _ Thunderclan territory, it's going to be nigh impossible for you or I to reach each other at a reasonable time.”

“Well, for now I guess I could be your go-between for communication,” Dustpelt offered. “I could sneak out of camp every other night, meet Mistystar by Sunningrocks, then go to your nest, Firestar.” He looked over the tom’s four-moon-old body. “We can train there. With your body, we'll need to get back into shape together. Unlike us, you don't have a clan to hunt and train in.”

“Very well,” Firestar agreed as Mistystar nodded. “And for the ground rules, I think it goes without saying we tell no one of this. No one would believe us.”

“ _ I  _ still can't believe it,” Dustpelt snorted.

“Dustpelt and I can keep an eye on our clans,” Mistystar added. “Tigerstar may not be a threat right now, but he definitely will be. I'd prefer not to lose a good portion of my clanmates and family this time around.”

“Agreed,” Firestar nodded. “And no one goes showing off their warrior skills. That'll have to be a number one priority. A new apprentice fighting as a seasoned warrior will definitely raise unwanted questions.”

“I think that will be enough until I meet with Mistystar again,” Dustpelt nodded approvingly. “We should get a move on; if I remember right, the Thunderclan dawn patrol will be here any minute.”

Mistystar nodded. “Good luck.”

“May Starclan light our paths,” Firestar mewed. 

“Aren't we technically still Starclan warriors?” Dustpelt pointed out. “You just asked us to watch over ourselves.”

“Old habits die hard, I suppose. We'll need all the help we can get.”

Mistystar chuckled. “I'll see you in two nights, then, Dustpelt.”

And with that, the Riverclan warrior dove back into the water, silently swimming back over to Riverclan territory. After a moment, Firestar and Dustpelt shared a knowing look and raced back into the forest, the trio’s intermingling scents the only sign they had ever been there.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or in which Firestar whines, Mistystar struggles to hide her secrets, and Dustpelt is the only one making any progress. More of a filler chapter.

**Updated Allegiances (Pre-Into the Wild):**

Thunderclan:

Leader:

Bluestar—blue-gray she-cat, tinged with silver around her muzzle

Deputy:

Redtail—small tortoiseshell tom with a distinctive ginger tail

Apprentice, Dustpaw

Medicine Cat(s):

Spottedleaf—beautiful dark tortoiseshell she-cat with a distinctive dappled coat

Warriors:

Rosetail—gray tabby she-cat with a bushy ginger tail

Lionheart—magnificent golden tabby tom with thick fur like a lion's mane

Seedtail—brown she-cat with darker spots*

Tigerclaw—big dark brown tabby tom with unusually long front claws. Apprentice, Ravenpaw

Whitestorm—big white tom. Apprentice, Sandpaw

Aspenlight—gray tabby she-cat*

Owlheart—brown-and-white tom*

Darkstripe—sleek black-and-gray tabby tom. Apprentice, Longpaw

Runningwind—swift tabby tom

Fallenshadow—black tom with gray streaks*

Mousefur—small dusky brown she-cat

Apprentices:

Longpaw—pale tabby tom with dark black stripes

Dustpaw—dark brown tabby tom

Ravenpaw—small, skinny black tom with a tiny white dash on his chest, and white-tipped tail

Sandpaw—pale ginger she-cat

Queens:

Willowpelt—very pale gray she-cat with unusual blue eyes (Kit: Graykit—long-haired solid gray tom)

Frostfur—beautiful white coat and blue eyes (Expecting Lionheart’s kits)

Brindleface—pretty tabby

Goldenflower—pale ginger coat

Speckletail—pale tabby, and the oldest nursery queen

Elders:

Halftail—big dark brown tabby tom with part of his tail missing

Smallear—gray tom with very small ears. The oldest tom in ThunderClan

Patchpelt—small black-and-white tom.

One-eye—pale gray she-cat, the oldest cat in ThunderClan. Virtually blind and deaf

Dappletail—once-pretty tortoiseshell she-cat with a lovely dappled coat

  
  


Riverclan:

Leader:

Crookedstar—a huge light-colored tabby with a twisted jaw. Apprentice, Stonepaw

Deputy:

Oakheart—reddish-brown tom

Medicine Cat(s):

Mudfur—long-haired light brown tom

Warriors:

Graypool—dark gray she-cat

Leopardfur—unusually spotted golden tabby she-cat. Apprentice, Mosspaw

Blackclaw—smoky black tom

Skyheart—pale brown tabby she-cat

Loudbelly—a dark brown tom

Voleclaw—gray tom

Frogleap—light gray tom

Beetlenose—black tom

Cloudpetal—black-and-white she-cat.* Apprentice, Mistypaw

Sedgecreek—brown tabby she-cat

Reedtail—pale gray tabby tom

Whiteclaw—a dark warrior

Eagleheart—brown tom with black paws and ears*

Apprentices:

Mistypaw—blue-gray she-cat

Stonepaw—dark blue-gray tom

Mosspaw—tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat

Queens:

Sunfish—Light brown she-cat (Kits: Silverkit—Silver and gray tabby she-cat (Adopted), Vixenkit—black she-cat with a reddish tail-tip, Grasskit—brown tabby tom)

Petaldust— (Kits: Silverkit—black-and-white she-cat, Shadekit—very dark gray she-cat, Heavykit—Light brown tabby tom)

Elders:

Softwing—White-and-ginger she-cat

Owlfur—Brown-and-white tom

  
  


*Minor OCs to fill up the ranks. I doubt that at this time Thunderclan only consisted of ten cats, no matter how “weak” they were. Riverclan’s OC’s are for plot reasons, but they’ll be minor.

* * *

There was a reason Firestar had left his life as a kittypet.

The former Thunderclan leader had only been in his former Twoleg’s house for a day, and already he was ready to claw his “housefolk” and race for Thunderclan territory, time-traveller or not. The food was positively  _ disgusting _ —they called those hard pellets a  _ meal _ ?! He had hardly been able to swallow a mouthful before he had resolved to hunting in the forest that night, regardless of the consequences. Thunderclan could spare a mouse or two. The water was also stale and tasteless, though there was dew that had collected on the leaves of the plants in the garden, and Firestar had eagerly lapped it up.

And as big of a problem the food and water was, at least they had  _ solutions _ . Because now it was past sunhigh and Firestar was  _ bored _ .

There was nothing to do! He felt trapped in his Twoleg nest, not to mention it brought back several unpleasant memories, so that was ruled out. The forest was obviously a no-go, and he couldn’t remember who lived in the neighboring Twoleg nests, besides having a general idea of where Smudge and Princess lived, so he couldn’t go there either.

That left the tiny, tiny little yard behind his Twoleg nest. Making things even worse, he was a kit again, which meant that he had a boundless amount of energy that had to be spent doing  _ something. _ So now he was pacing his yard, ignoring the grumblings of his empty stomach, feeling as if his skin was crawling with ants, and in an overall horrible mood.

How did he  _ survive _ the first six moons of his life?! Firestar was beginning to develop a sort of grudging respect for kittypets and their way of life. It took a strong soul to survive such boredom. 

Firestar unsheathed his claws, letting them dig into the cool dirt. He ducked under one of the older bushes in the yard, ducking to avoid the low-hanging branches. Sleeping under a bush like this in Smudge’s yard, he had first met Cloudstar and had been sent to restore the dead Skyclan. It made him wonder whether this old bush had been a part of the fifth clan’s old territory, and if Leafstar and the modern Skyclan were still going strong in their new home in the Gorge, back in the future.

The orange-furred tom shook the memories out of his head. He was going to have to get used to being bombarded by these memories sooner or later. It would be pretty suspicious if he would just stop and stare into nothing every couple heartbeats. 

Ugh, there were so many rules! Firestar usually had no problems following rules like the Warrior Code, but the stakes were so much higher than keeping order in the clan now. Everyone’s lives rested in his shoulders. Tigerstar was a threat, and the eventual destruction of the forest, the Dark Forest, Bloodclan…

Firestar stopped short, a branch from the bush smacking him straight in the face. Oh,  _ Bloodclan. _ Starclan’s name, he had no idea how to handle Scourge, Bone, and all those rogues this time around! He had barely done it the first time, and most of it was due to chance! Already he, Mistystar, and Dustpelt were changing history; what if they changed so much that Bloodclan couldn’t be stopped?

Firestar’s head started to hurt. This was all too confusing.

_ And on top of that he would have to gain the respect of the clans all over again… _

The Thunderclan leader buried his face into the ground and screamed.

* * *

“Dustpaw! Where have you been?!”

Dustpelt winced as he squeezed through the dirtplace tunnel. He had hoped to enter the camp without anyone noticing, perhaps watch everyone for a while to get the hang of working as an apprentice again, but no.

Of  _ course _ he had been missed while he was out coming to terms with the fact that he was a time-traveller.

The senior warrior-turned-newbie-apprentice winced as he recognised the voice of his old mentor, Redtail. He had died so long ago, and Dustpelt had long gotten over him, even conversed with him a bit in Starclan, but hearing his voice brought a new wave of pain in his heart. 

This cat would be dead in two moons.

“Dustpaw! Pay attention! Where have you been?”

Dustpelt blinked, and turned to look at his mentor. Redtail really was there; it took all he had not to go up and touch him to make sure. The Thunderclan deputy tilted his head, starting to look slightly worried, when Dustpelt finally registered the fact that he had been asked a question.

“Oh, um, I… I couldn’t sleep last night!” He answered, just shooting off the first lie that came off the top of his head. “And when the sun came up, I decided to go and take a walk to try and wake myself up!”

Redtail frowned. “Really?” he replied, seeming to buy the quick lie. Dustpelt sent a prayer of thanks to Starclan. “What were you thinking? We almost sent a patrol out looking for you!”

“Sorry…?” Dustpelt cringed at the uncertain tone in his voice. He was not used to this.

Redtail snorted. “Come now. The patrols are behind schedule because of you. No training today. I want you working in the elder’s den for the day.”

“Alright,” Dustpelt nodded, and Redtail gave him an odd look he couldn’t place before turning around and walking over to Lionheart. As soon as he turned around, Dustpelt let out a breath of relief. One conversation down, countless more to go, most of which would be with cats who were long dead or extremely old in his timeline. Joy.

Well, at least he had been assigned to work with the elders for the day. Back in the days when he used to be an apprentice the first time around, he, like most everyone else, hated the job, but now, it offered him the chance to try and acclimate to his new(old?) surroundings and figure out just what he was going to do.

Okay. He was an apprentice in Thunderclan, a totally normal apprentice that didn’t have anything special going for him and he shouldn’t attract attention to himself because of that reason.

Check.

He had a mentor named Redtail, the deputy of Thunderclan; his daughter, Sandstorm— _ paw _ , he reminded himself—was a good friend of his, and he had a brother, Ravenpaw, whom he rarely if ever talked to.

Check.

He did not know many if any hunting or fighting techniques, and he certainly did not have the skills of a senior warrior who had been through countless battles and had fought against the strongest opponents the clans had ever faced.

Check?

Dustpelt shook himself. He could do this. The first thing he would have to do was go to the elder’s den, then ask what they needed him to do first. He could do this. The former Thunderclan warrior took a deep breath and stood up, ignoring practically every cat around him in an effort to try and keep some sort of normality around him. 

_ Do not attract attention, do not attract attention, do not attract attention _ —

“Dustpaw!”

_ Mouse dung! _

The former Thunderclan warrior jumped in surprise, still tense, and turned around to see Sandst— _ paw,  _ he scolded himself—bounding towards him. The pale ginger she-cat stopped to walk beside him, not seeming to notice her friend stiffening next to her.

“Where have you been?” she asked, flicking Dustpelt with her tail. “It was weird enough when I woke up without you in the den, and Redtail was going mad trying to find you. I think he’s in a bad mood today and you certainly weren’t helping.” She paused, looking Dustpelt square in the eyes. “Hey, are you alright? You don’t usually act like this.”

_ Say something! _

“Um… I couldn’t sleep,” Dustpelt answered lamely, looking away and going with the same lie he had told Redtail. “I had a bad dream, alright? I went for a walk to try and clear my head.”

Sandpaw blinked, then shrugged. “Alright,” she replied nonchalantly. “A bad dream though, Dustpaw? I thought you were better than that. Anyways, I better get going. Whitestorm is teaching me battle moves today!” And with a flick of her tail, she was gone, running over across the fresh-kill pile to meet her mentor.

Dustpelt couldn’t help but stare after the young apprentice. Wow. He hadn’t realized that Sandstorm had changed so much during their apprenticeship. He couldn’t remember her ever acting so… well, young. Sassy? Sure, but never so naive. Maybe his memory was a bit fuzzy. It had been a while, after all.

Shaking himself, the Thunderclan apprentice—he was going to have to get used to using that term for himself again—started back towards the elder’s den.

This was going to take some getting used to.

* * *

Mistystar was still. Next to her, her brother, Stonepaw, was snoring like a badger—Starclan, she missed that trait of his—and every so often would kick out, probably in a dream where he was hunting or fighting. It made the former Riverclan leader happy; she had missed her brother more than she could ever imagine, and even though they had reunited in Starclan, it just wasn’t the same as seeing him alive and breathing once more.

Two full sunrises had passed since she had ended up in the past, and today was the day that she was supposed to be meeting Dustpelt near Sunningrocks. Her pelt was prickling with energy; she was anxious to hear what the Thunderclan warrior would have to say, and how he was faring in Thunderclan.

For her, returning to life as an apprentice had been easy; she was good at acting and lying, which made it very easy to fool her mentor and brother. Plus, she had to admit that it was pretty fun being an apprentice again. No worries, minor responsibilities, and she was about to be made a warrior(again). If she remembered correctly, her final assessment was in a couple sunrises. It would be relatively easy to pass; she just needed to catch some prey, making sure to miss one or two, then put up a relatively good fight against her mentor, Cloudpetal, but lose in the end. If there was one thing Mistystar prided herself on being, it was a good actor.

The only problem so far was her father, Oakheart. Ever since she had first woken up in the past and had accidentally shouted that he was dead (she had played it off as a nightmare to the rest of her clan), he had been watching her rather… closely. It was a bit disorienting. He’d always approach her after a patrol or one of her training sessions and ask how she was doing, how her day was going, or whether she and Stonepaw were getting along. It had made Mistystar slightly wary of her father. Though Oakheart had always been a loving parent to her, he had become much more paws-off when they had become apprentices. It was odd, how he was acting, and though Mistystar doubted he was from the future—unless he had somehow become the best liar she had ever seen—she couldn’t help but think that something had changed him from the past timeline.

That was why Mistystar was still curled up in her nest, patiently waiting for the almost-full moon to rise up into the sky when she should’ve already been at her meetingplace with Dustpelt. She was suspicious of her father, and was sure that the feeling was mutual. Better safe than sorry.

Stonepaw mewed softly in his sleep, turning over and kicking Mistystar sharply in the side. The former Riverclan leader simply rolled her eyes, more happy to have her brother simply sleeping next to her than upset that she might have a bruise in the morning.

Raising her head slightly, Mistystar looked out through the reed-woven den to take another peek at the time. To her relief, the moon had made a lot of progress while she had been waiting, and now was hanging a quarter of the way up into the sky. Late enough.

Slowly, Mistystar eased herself out of her nest, shaking the spare moss out of her fur, and silently padded towards the opening of the den, freezing when Stonepaw shifted again. Luckily, her brother moved no more, and Mistystar relaxed ever so slightly, slipping out of the den, her blue-gray plet blending in easily with the silver moonbeams that were spread across the camp. There was no guard; the river that flowed around the island camp served as enough protection in Crookedstar’s eyes, and though it was a standard she privately disagreed with, it was now an asset to her mission, so she wasn’t complaining. Ducking into the shadows, Mistystar padded to the bank of the river and quietly dived into the freezing cold river water.

As soon as she was on the other side of the bank, Mistystar broke out into a full-blown run, her paws nearly flying across the marshy territory. The former Riverclan leader let herself go with the wind, which was blowing up behind her, and she couldn’t help but let out a small whoop at the feeling she was experiencing.

Running was something that had always calmed her down. Though she was anything but a Windclan cat, Mistystar could see why they lived on the moor. For her, running had always let her clear her head and think, the rhythmic pounding of her pawsteps incredibly soothing to her troubled mind. The cool, crisp nighttime air woke her up completely, and for once, she let herself ignore everything around her.

While running, she wasn’t Mistypaw, a Riverclan apprentice who was stressing over her upcoming assessments and trying to impress her clan by living up to her reputation as the daughter of the Riverclan deputy.

But she wasn’t Mistystar either, the aging leader of Riverclan, who had lost her entire family save for her sole son, Reedwhisker; she wasn’t the she-cat who had fought in countless battles to save her clan, watched those around her grow old and die, and who had to watch her clan slowly wither away.

She was just… Misty, she supposed. A she-cat who loved running and swimming and being alone. She was no leader, but she wasn’t an apprentice either. She was just...herself. 

It felt nice.

Eventually, though, she neared the Thunderclan border, and she slowed back down to a trot, reality slowly setting in again as she did. Mistystar sighed to herself even as her sides heaved for air. It wasn’t often she could let herself go like that. Running was a fantastic stress reliever.

As she came close to the river, Mistystar slowed to a walk, scanning across the opposite side of the bank, where Dustpelt was supposed to be waiting. She hoped he hadn’t given up and left; she had waited a long time before coming. 

When she was about to lose hope and turn back to camp, she noticed a figure stepping out of the treeline, his brown fur shining a dark gray in the moonlight. The former Riverclan leader let out a breath of relief, waving her tail at him before sliding into the river, stroking strongly before her paws met solid ground. She exited the other side of the river dripping wet, and a gust of wind blew behind her again, making her shiver.

“Nice to see you finally made it,” Dustpelt announced as Mistystar shook out her fur, eager to try and warm up a bit. Leaf-bare was only just ending, making the nighttime air freezing cold. “I was about to leave. Where were you?”

“Sorry,” Mistystar apologised, flicking her tail to try and bring back some warmth to it. “I had to wait longer than usual before leaving. Oakheart is acting suspicious of me; I had to make sure he wouldn’t follow me and find us out.”

Dustpelt tensed, his fur beginning to fluff out as he looked over Mistystar’s shoulder to gaze at the Riverclan side of the river. 

“Are you sure he didn’t follow you?” he questioned.

“As certain as I can be,” the blue-gray she-cat replied. “I have much more experience than he does at stalking, thankfully, so I think I would’ve noticed him following me.”

“What made him become suspicious in the first place?” Dustpelt asked, relaxing slightly, though her didn’t take his eyes off of the Riverclan bank. 

“When I first arrived in the past, I was disoriented, like you were,” Mistystar flattened her ears, slightly embarrassed. “Oakheart was the one who woke me up. I asked him where we were, where Firestar was, and if I had died again. He just gave me a worried look and said that we were in the Riverclan camp. I then refused to believe him, saying we were both dead and should be in Starclan. Stonepaw started freaking out at that, and then I realised that this was probably some sort of dream. I just rolled with that idea, playing off my words by saying I had a nightmare. Oakheart sent me on patrol with Blackclaw after that, and then I met you.”

“Well, you’ve acted normal afterwards, right?” Dustpelt pressed.

“Of course. I think he’s just being a bit overprotective.”

“Well, that’s the best we can do for right now. How’s life in Riverclan?” The brown tabby chuckled. “Lazing about all day catching fish shouldn’t be too hard, right?”

Mistystar snorted. “Better than you, hiding in the trees all day. My warrior ceremony should be coming up in a few sunrises. It’ll be easier to meet you then. Will you be coming to the Gathering tomorrow night?”

“I don’t know,” Dustpelt shrugged. “Probably not. Gatherings are a lot more exclusive now than they were back at the Lake.”

“Well, if you do come, keep an eye out for me.”

“Very well.”

“Anything else to catch up on?”

“There’s been a kittypet scented on our territory near the Twolegplace. I think we both know who that is.”

Mistystar rolled her eyes. “Firestar. Of course. We should’ve expected that; he’s as much of a kittypet as we are at this point. He probably doesn’t like or want to eat the kittypet food, not that I blame him.” 

“I’m going to talk to him about that,” Dustpelt sighed. “Anyways, I’ll talk to him and get some input on what we need to do next. We don’t really need to do much for the next two moons. We have a lot of time to decide how exactly we’re going to change the future.”

Mistystar nodded. “I think that we should save Oakheart and Redtail. Their deaths were what first started the rise of Tigerstar.”

“I have to agree with you,” Dustpelt nodded. “But on the other paw, no matter how much we want to save our deputies, Oakheart and Redtail’s deaths  _ did _ help expose Tigerclaw for what he was. I’m also afraid that if we don’t let them die, the future will be changed too much for us to accurately predict it.”

Mistystar lashed her tail on the ground, but said nothing, knowing in her heart that Dustpelt was right. No matter how much they wanted to, saving Redtail and Oakheart’s lives would be a big risk, especially if Tigerclaw would end up changing tactics.

“Well, we defeated Tigerclaw without any future knowledge last time,” Dustpelt’s contemplative voice brought the former Riverclan leader back to the present. “We could just save Redtail and Oakheart and roll with whatever comes next. For all we know, the outcome could be better than it was the last time around.”

Mistystar sighed, flicking an ear. “I don’t like this. I don’t like it at all. Why were we even sent back in the first place? So we could change the past? Starclan didn’t send us back, Dustpelt; we  _ were  _ part of Starclan. Why were you brought back, when you were nowhere near Firestar and I? There is no higher force than Starclan.”

Dustpelt blinked, then shrugged. “You’re asking the wrong cat,” he conceded. “I’m just as clueless as you are. But—” he raised his muzzle to look at the shining stars in Silverpelt above them. “Maybe we just won’t  _ get _ an explanation. Not everything is always fully revealed to us, whether in this life or the next. Either way, it’s probably best not to go down that particular line of thought until we’ve done what we’re supposed to do.”

“I don’t know,” Mistystar sniffed. “I just think this will end up being one of those little facts that we overlook and ends up biting us in the backside.”

Dustpelt snorted. “There’s always something like that in any adventure,” he replied. “What will make this one any different?”

“The fact that we are under the most stress we have ever been in in our lives—and deaths?”

“Well, I don’t know about that. I think fighting the Dark Forest was the most stressful thing I’ve ever done.”

“Fine. The most  _ continuous _ stressful adventure I’ve ever been on.”

“Touché,” Dustpelt nodded, smirking over at his friend. “I do believe you may have outmaneuvered me, O Great and Wise Leader of Riverclan.”

Mistystar cuffed him sharply over the ear. 

“Oh, shut up, minnow-brain.”


	4. Chapter 3

_ One Moon Later _

“Again, Dustpaw!”

Dustpelt grunted, blinking the sand out of his eyes, before putting himself back into position. His hind legs coiled underneath him, before jumping out and swiping down his forepaw down on an imaginary enemy before swiping again close to the ground, raising another cloud of sand into the air as he swiped just a kittenstep too low. The former warrior sheathed his claws after performing the move, his sides heaving for breath, and turned to Redtail, who was standing off to one side, observing his apprentice’s moves.

“Excellent work, Dustpaw,” the ginger tortoiseshell purred, looking very pleased. “You’re learning extremely fast! You’ve almost mastered the forepaw slash!”

Dustpelt sat up straighter, feeling a rush of pride flow through his whole body, all the way to his tail-tip. Though Redtail was a very kind cat and a figure to respect, he was a harsh mentor, always expecting nothing but the best from his apprentice. Any praise he gave was always hard-won.

_ Or,  _ Dustpelt reflected wryly.  _ His apprentice has already learned the moves he’s being taught. _

Still, though, it was nice to receive praise from his mentor, no matter how ill-deserved it was. After Redtail had died, Darkstripe had become his mentor, and although he had been made a warrior thanks to him, he had done more harm than good. Thinking of the coward always turned his mood sour. And to think he had almost followed  _ Tigerstar _ because of his influence… ugh.

“Thank you, Mentor,” he finally replied, sincerity lacing his voice. “I hope I can become a good warrior someday, too.”

“And you will,” Redtail replied, striding over to his apprentice. “ _ If _ you work hard enough, and even then, that day will be far away.” He flicked an ear, then changed the subject. “You performed the move almost flawlessly, but your paws are still slightly too low when you aim to take out your opponents. You need to aim slightly higher, for the ankles.”

Dustpelt nodded appreciatively, despite the fact that he had aimed too low on purpose. Yes, Redtail was much better than Darkstripe.

“Try the move again,” Redtail continued. “If you get it right, we can get back to camp before Sunhigh.”

Dustpelt nodded, his mood slightly tempered with the thoughts of Darkstripe on his mind, and took his position again, muscles tensing as he began to ready himself to repeat the move again.

Suddenly, a form came into his vision; a dark gray tom with black stripes and glittering yellow eyes. A flash of rage shot through the tabby apprentice, and he bounded forwards, bringing down his paw on the tom’s face, before ducking below the tabby’s counterattack to swipe his feet out from under him.

Dustpelt finished the move, and Darkstripe was suddenly gone, thin air replacing the resident of the Dark Forest. The tom blinked, surprised.

Huh. He might have a  _ bit _ of a grudge against his second mentor. Oops.

“Perfect,” Redtail observed, nodding approvingly and getting to his feet. “You did a fair job today, Dustpaw. We can head back to camp now. After Sunhigh we can go hunting.”

Dustpelt purred, bounding over to his mentor despite the soreness that dragged down on his paws. He was starving, having only had a small mouse that morning before being whisked off to train for the next couple hours.

Together, mentor and apprentice walked in relative silence towards camp, Dustpelt taking the time to stretch out his muscles and organize his thoughts. Though learning new moves wasn’t hard anymore, it was mentally exhausting, having to pretend to learn a move and get something wrong on it the first couple times. Hunting was especially hard, as the crouch was practically ingrained in him and it was extremely difficult perform it wrong on purpose.

As they walked into the camp, Dustpelt was moderately surprised to see a bit of commotion scattered across the clearing. He racked his brain for anything that might’ve happened while he and Redtail were out training, but all he could come up with was remembering that Frostfur had begun kitting that morning, shortly before he had left with his mentor.

Redtail also seemed slightly confused, and he padded up to one of the more senior warriors, Seedtail—a sleek light brown she-cat; she had died sometime after Firestar had joined the clan, but he couldn’t remember exactly when—and asked what had happened while they were out.

“Oh, it’s quite a pleasant surprise!” Seedtail purred in response. “Frostfur gave birth to her kits shortly after you and Dustpaw went out. Six of them!”

“Six?” Redtail questioned, surprised, while Dustpelt blinked, also shocked. He didn’t remember anything like this happening in the original timeline! “Are you sure? Can a she-cat even have that many kits?”

“I guess so!” Seedtail replied. “Though we’ve never heard of something like that happening before. Spottedleaf is saying that though having that many kits is possible, it’s very rare.”

“Can I see them?” Dustpelt spoke up, genuinely curious to see the new kits. Both Seedtail and Redtail shared a look, before the she-cat shrugged. 

“I don’t see why not,” the light brown warrior replied. “Longtail’s already seen them, so you can go head over to the nursery if you want to. Just don’t cause too much trouble!”

“I won’t!” Dustpelt replied, putting in the excited tone that he knew an apprentice would have, and bounded off towards the nursery, curiosity burning in his belly as he did so. As he passed in between the large brambles that protected the den, he came face-to-face with a gray five-moon-old kit, almost colliding with him before he managed to scramble backwards just in time.

“Oops!” the kit exclaimed, shaking out his fur and grinning. “Sorry Dustpaw! I didn’t see you there! Are you here to see the kits? They’re so cute, but Willowpelt says I can’t play with them yet. Could you convince her to let me play with them? Could  _ you _ play with me?”

“Yes, no, no,” Dustpelt answered, chuckling at the kit’s barrage of questions. Same old Graystripe—just a bit downsized and more energetic. It reminded him of one of his sons, Foxleap, when he was a kit. “Frostfur’s kits are much too young to play with you, and I’m going out hunting with Redtail after sunhigh. Maybe tomorrow?”

Graykit pouted. “No one’s ever here to play with me,” he whined. “It’s all about Frostfur and her kits! Why can’t they pay attention to me?!”

Yes, he could definitely see Foxleap in his old friend (or was it Graystripe in Foxleap?). It actually hurt a bit, as Foxleap had died young, several moons after the battle with the Dark Forest.

“Well, why don’t you show me the kits?” Dustpelt compromised. “I’m sure you’ve seen them before. You could introduce me to them.”

“Mm, alright,” Graykit huffed, going back into the den. “I don’t know why, though.  _ I _ don’t see anything great about them.”

Dustpelt purred softly to himself as he ducked under the brambles. Sitting in the nursery were four queens, one of which was watching lovingly over six little kits, all sleeping in a huddle. Closest to him was Speckletail, the oldest nursery queen. Next to her was Willowpelt, Graystripe’s mother, and off to one side was Goldenflower, taking a nap in her nest. Dustpelt nodded respectfully to Speckletail and Willowpelt, before turning to the pretty white queen.

“Are you here to see the kits too?” Frostfur purred, looking up to Dustpelt and Graykit.

“Yeah, he is,” Graykit huffed, before brightening again. “And he said I could introduce them all!”

Frostfur sent a knowing look to Dustpelt, and he flattened his ears, making himself to look embarrassed. It wasn’t often a young apprentice was so mature. “Well, you two are welcome to do so.”

Graykit took that as an incentive to start. “That’s Cinderkit,” he flicked his tail at a dark gray she-cat.  _ Cinderpelt _ . “Brackenkit,” he motioned to a golden brown tom.  _ Brackenfur _ . “Brightkit,” a white she-cat with ginger patches.  _ Brightheart. _ “Thornkit,” a tom that looked the same as Brackenkit.  _ Thornclaw. _ “Leafkit,” next to Thornkit was an unfamiliar mottled brown-and-cream she-kit. Dustpelt frowned, uneasiness curling inside of him as he studied her. Who was this Leafkit? What had caused her to be born? “And lastly, Bramblekit, he’s the biggest of the litter.” Dustpelt moved his eyes away from Leafkit and onto the last kit of the litter, and started.

This kit was the spitting image of Bramblestar, all the way down to the dark tabby stripes running down his back. Dustpelt stared, shocked, words unable to form in his mouth.

“Dustpaw?” Graykit questioned. “Dustpaw, your mouth is hanging open like a rabbit’s.”

“O-oh,” the former warrior responded slowly. “Was I? Sorry, Bramblekit just looked a lot like Tigerst- _ claw; _ it surprised me.” Did he seriously just mess up like that?  _ Flea-brain. _

“It’s alright,” Frostfur spoke up. Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed to notice his slip of the tongue. “We were all surprised as well. An odd coincidence, isn’t it?”

Dustpelt nodded. “Weird,” he mewed, and turned to exit the den. “Anyways, I have to go and get something to eat before Ravenpaw or Sandpaw get the best prey. Congratulations on your kits!”

Frostfur purred as Dustpelt padded towards the exit, Graykit still right on his heels.

“Do you  _ have  _ to go?” the gray kit whined. “It’s so boring here! Willowpelt and Goldenflower are the only people I can play with, and they’re  _ old _ . You and Ravenpaw are fun!”

“I’ll come over tomorrow, alright?” Dustpelt replied absentmindedly, exiting the nursery. 

“Okay…” Graykit trailed off, and went back the way he came.

Dustpelt was too deep in thought to notice. Something was wrong. Why were these two kits born? Were they also from the past and reborn somehow? That would make sense with Bramblekit, but who was Leafkit? She certainly didn’t look anything like Leafpool, which ruled her out.

Dustpelt’s head started to hurt. He would have to ask Mistystar and Firestar about this tonight. Something was off here.

* * *

Dustpelt was late. 

Mistystar frowned, licking her ruffled chest fur. Dustpelt was supposed to have met her an hour ago, and now it was almost moonhigh. Something felt… off… right now. It wasn’t enough to make Mistystar give up entirely on meeting her Thunderclan ally tonight, but it put her on edge, hence the reason why she hadn’t crossed the river yet, instead opting to hide in the reeds on her side of the border, doing her best to keep from dozing off.

The young Riverclan warrior frowned as she scanned the forest line of Thunderclan for the upteenth time, waiting anxiously for Dustpelt.

_ If he doesn’t show up soon, I’m going to leave, _ she resolved to herself. After she had become a warrior, which was soon after she had first arrived in the past, it had become slightly easier to sneak out of camp, but even she would be pushing it if she stayed much longer.

As soon as the thought passed through her mind, however, she glimpsed a flash of brown fur in the forest, and Mistystar stood up, stretching out her legs as she did so. Looking closer over the boundary, she found Dustpelt’s amber eyes glowing in the forest and let out a breath of relief. He would have to have a good explanation for making her wait so long.

Sighing, the blue-gray she-cat dove into the river, paddling over to the other side with a practiced ease. Once on the Thunderclan border, she caught sight of Dustpelt, who exited the forest, a second, flame-colored kittypet following him. Mistystar recognized him immediately.

“Firestar!” She exclaimed, bounding forwards to the two. “What are you doing here?” She turned to Dustpelt. “And why were you so late? My paws were about to freeze off!”

Dustpelt blinked, almost taking a step away, while Firestar snorted. 

“I’m not sure,” the flame-colored tom replied, humor and worry lacing his voice; an odd combination. “He just said something had come up and that he needed to talk to both of us at once."

“Well?” The Riverclan warrior turned to the Thunderclan apprentice, her gaze full of ice. 

Dustpelt blinked, and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. After a heartbeat, he shook himself and spoke.

“We-we have a problem,” he stuttered. “I think Bramblestar followed us back in time. And someone else, but I didn’t recognize her.”

Silence. 

“What?” Firestar questioned, looking shocked. Mistystar herself blinked several times, trying to discern how this had happened. “Bramblestar… isn’t he still alive? And leading Thunderclan? How?”

“I’m not sure,” Dustpelt admitted. “Frostfur gave birth to her kits this morning, while I was out training with Redtail. The first four were normal—Cinderpelt, Thornclaw, Brightheart, and Brackenfur—but the last two were different, I could tell. There was Bramblestar—he still looks the same as he did in the past timeline, so I bet Frostfur is having a hard time explaining how one of Lionheart’s kits looks like Tigerstar—but another she-kit was there as well, a mottled brown-and-cream kit. They had named her Leafkit, but she looks nothing like Leafpool.”

Mistystar frowned. Who was this cat?

“This is...unexpected, to say the least,” Firestar finally broke the tense silence that had settled over the time-travelling trio. “I guess I have just thought only Starclan cats could’ve followed us—I mean, cats who have already died. What about Thunderclan?! Bramblestar has a clan to look after, and a mate, and kits…” the flame-colored tom looked on the verge of panic for his former deputy and apprentice. “What will happen to Thunderclan, and the timeline now, and—”

“Quiet, Firestar,” Mistystar finally snapped, her own tail lashing in agitation. “You’re going to wake up the whole forest with that worrying of yours.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Firestar shot back. “They’re my clan!”

“Well, there’s not much you can do!” The former Riverclan leader hissed, her patience stretching thin. “It’s high time you got over the old Thunderclan, Firestar! They can take care of themselves, and that’s assuming they even  _ exist _ anymore. You have to focus on the Thunderclan here and now!”

Firestar blinked, and Mistystar instantly felt she had pushed too far. Then the tom’s fur fluffed up, and he unsheathed his claws.

“I will  _ always worry about Thunderclan! _ ” He hissed. “They are my clan and it is my job to protect them! They are alive, and they are in trouble! I may care for this timeline, but they will never,  _ never _ replace my old clanmates. I will help these cats, and then I will find a way home, no matter what. And if you can’t help me with that, then I don’t see why I’m here at all.”

And with that, he turned around and bounded back into the forest, leaving his two shocked allies behind.

An uneasy silence settled in between the warrior and apprentice. A small stab of guilt poked at Mistystar’s gut, but another part of her flashed with worry at her old friend. This Thunderclan didn’t replace the old ones? Did that mean he didn’t see them as the same cats they had left in the old timeline? Mistystar had just seen them as the old versions of his friends and clanmates, but did Firestar perceive it differently? 

“His loyalty to his clan was always his greatest strength and biggest weakness,” Dustpelt finally murmured, more to himself than to Mistystar. “I had always assumed that he was taking this just as well as the rest of us. Maybe I was wrong.”

“I think we both were,” Mistystar sighed.

There was a short pause, then the brown tom spoke again.

“You know,” Dustpelt murmured, half-amusedly. “When you had started scolding us for being late just now, you were the spitting image of your mother. Just thought you might like to know.”

Mistystar smiled slightly. She had never really been close to Bluestar in life, but they had bonded in Starclan. It was nice to know that she still had a bit of her mother with her. Already she found herself missing the Thunderclan leader’s presence. 

Another silence settled between the two, though now it was more depressing than uncomfortable, both caught up in old memories, good and bad.

Finally, as Moonhigh approached, Mistystar stood up, stretching out her legs.

“We should get going,” she announced as Dustpelt followed her lead. “We shouldn’t stay too much longer unless we want to be missed. I’ll see you two sunrises from now?”

“Hopefully never again, if I have anything to say about it.”

Mistystar nearly jumped out of her fur, her claws unsheathing as she struggled to find the source of the voice. Next to her Dustpelt readied a battle stance as a sleek figure emerged out of the reeds. He had dark, reddish-brown fur that shone a dark tan in the moonlight, and glowing amber eyes. Mistystar felt her blood turn to ice.

“O-Oakheart!” She heard herself exclaim, and what bravado Dustpelt had disappeared down the drain as he left his battle stance and shrunk into his skin. Her father did not look very happy, his eyes going over the two friends disapprovingly.

“Mistyfoot?” His voice was cold. “What is this? Why are you meeting this Thunderclan cat?”

“I—” She couldn’t answer, feeling trapped under her father’s amber gaze. Any experience she had gained from her seasons as the leader of Riverclan suddenly disappeared down the drain, and suddenly she was a new warrior, who had been caught by her father and clan deputy meeting someone else from another clan.

Oakheart seemed to notice that his daughter wasn’t going to answer him, so he turned to Dustpelt. “And who are you?”

“D-Dustpaw, sir,” He answered, only stuttering once, much to his credit.

“And why are you here with my daughter?”

Dustpelt paused, and Mistystar could practically see the gears turning in his head, even as he panicked at being found out.

“We-we were just… talking, sir.”

“Is that so? About what?”

“Um,” Dustpelt’s eyes flicked around. “Sunningrocks!”

Oakheart raised an eyebrow, and Mistystar started. Where was he going with this?

“I mean, we happened to meet one day while I was out hunting, but I don’t remember what Mistyfoot was doing. I fell into the river trying to catch a vole and she fished me out. We just started… talking after that. About stuff. Politics a lot. I was curious what it was like in Riverclan and vice versa with Mistyfoot. We agreed to meet again after that because it was kinda fun to see a different point of view. We were arguing over who owned Sunningrocks just now.”

Mistystar gaped, before realising what her expression was and schooling it into one of agreement. Good thing Oakheart had been focusing on Dustpelt, or else the lie would’ve been blown as it was being told. Who knew Dustpelt was so good at lying?

Oakheart’s face lost just a bit of the coldness to it, and Mistystar could feel herself practically collapsing with relief as she saw him buy the lie.

“So you two meet to talk about clan politics?” he questioned, turning to Mistystar.

“Y-yes,” she blue-gray she-cat nodded. “He-he was curious, an-and I guess I was, too. Thunderclan is just… different… and I wanted to know how they lived their way of life.”

Oakheart flicked his gaze between the two younger cats, before nodding to himself, his gaze taking an emotion she couldn’t place.

“Very well,” he said. “But don’t do this again. Mistyfoot, I expected better from you; meeting other clan cats like this. And…” he paused. “Dustpaw, was it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be sure to mention this to Bluestar at the next Gathering. I’m certain she will punish you as she sees fit. Wanting to know how another clan lives is fine, but meeting in the middle of the night is not the way to do it. Save it for the Gatherings, both of you.”

“Yes, sir,” Dustpelt repeated, and Oakheart turned, flicking his tail for Mistystar to follow him as he strode back to the river and to Riverclan’s side of the border. Mistystar followed her father silently, sparing a quick glance at Dustpelt, who only flicked an ear at her and bounded down into the undergrowth, his tail disappearing in a flash.

Mistystar turned back to her father, taking a deep breath to try and shake off the paralyzing fear that had taken ahold of her. What had just happened? Usually she could keep a cool head in times of trouble, but with Oakheart, she had just… fallen apart. 

They swam to the other side of the river, and when Mistystar set foot on the other side, she came face-to-face with Oakheart’s worried expression. 

“Oakheart?” she murmured quietly, not wanting to anger her father further. “What is it?”

“Mistyfoot,” he began. “You don’t do stuff like this, alright?”

“What?” she replied, confused as they began a slow walk back to camp. Trying to think of something to say, she played with the lie that Dustpelt had given her, as well as her identity as a young warrior. “We only wanted to know what it was like in a different clan.”

“Yes,” Oakheart consented to that point. “But it is also dangerous. What if you accidentally told him something confidential to Riverclan? And does it really matter, when you weren’t talking about Sunningrocks in the first place?”

Mistystar froze, and her father turned to look her in the eyes.

“Dustpaw is not the best liar,” he continued. “And you were both in a very despondent mood when I came up to confront the two of you. I am no fool, you know.”

For a moment, Mistystar said, nothing avoiding her father’s gaze, before an idea sprouted in the back of her mind. Wasn’t there a saying that a half truth sells a lie, or something along those lines?

“Well, we were going to talk about Sunningrocks,” she started slowly, choosing her words very carefully. “At least, that’s what Dustpe—paw was going to talk about at first, I suppose. He was late today, though, and I got really annoyed with that because it was cold out where I was waiting. When he finally showed up—I think he had been held back by a patrol or something—I was kind of upset, and started giving him a piece of my mind, when I noticed that he looked genuinely afraid. When I asked him why, he said…” she paused for a moment, mustering up the courage to say what she was going to say. “He said that I had looked exactly like Bluestar in that moment.”

Oakheart froze, his gaze suddenly snapping ahead. Mistystar said nothing, instead letting what she had said sink into both of them. Part of her was screaming at her to stop, to quit changing the timeline more than she was, but the other, greater part of her just knew that she  _ had _ to know. When she had found out that Bluestar was her mother, in the original timeline, it had been in battle, and knowing what she did now, she could never attack and threaten Bluestar’s life like she had then. She wanted an excuse to had the opportunity to get to know her mother in life. Maybe it was selfish, but she had talked with Bluestar, like, twice in her life? And it had been so long until she saw her again, after her death, that it was kind of awkward to talk with her. She needed this. She had never really received much closure from Bluestar’s death. Now was her chance.

“The conversation turned to her after that,” Mistystar continued. “I was pretty surprised, and asked if Bluestar had any kin in Thunderclan. He said that she had kits, but that they had died while still in the nursery.”

“That’s very sad,” Oakheart replied, refusing to meet Mistystar’s gaze. “Losing one’s kits is always a tragedy.”

“Mm,” Mistystar hummed, trying to think of what to say next without arising any suspicions. Nothing came to mind, and she eventually just decided to take a risk with her next inquiry. “Who was my mother, anyways? I know you found me and Stonefur at the border, at least, and that you and Graypool adopted us, but I’ve never really known the circumstances of my birth.”

Oakheart was silent for a long time, and Mistystar said no more, afraid that she had pushed him too far. Finally, though, he spoke, his voice quiet as it drifted out over the silent plains.

“Your mother was… it’s hard to explain just what she was like. I happened to meet her while I was patrolling one of our outer borders. I was a young warrior at the time, and was a bit foolhardy.” he chuckled. “I happened to cross the border and wander straight into her den, and she nearly ripped me to shreds. The next time I saw her was several moons later, on another patrol, when she caught a sparrow outside of the border. I complimented her on the catch, but she seemed to see it as a prod at her pride. We talked a bit then. I told her about Riverclan and she talked a little bit about her life as a rogue. We parted again after that, as friends.

“We met again once or twice after that, just sharing our different ways of life, much like you and Dustpaw were just now. Though your mother was intrigued with clan life, it had never interested her much, and we were both content with our walks of life. After some time, we eventually decided to break off the friendship altogether, deciding that it was getting in the way of my clan duties.” The Riverclan deputy flicked an ear in amusement. “I think she was just getting tired of my fishy smell.

“We didn’t see each other for a long time after that. I dedicated myself fully to clan life, and when Crookedstar became leader, he appointed me as his deputy. Life went on, until one leafbare came around, the worst that most of the warriors can remember. While out hunting, a horrible snowstorm sprang up out of nowhere. I was separated from my patrol, and eventually found myself at the border. I hunkered down in a hollow tree, waiting for the worst of the storm to pass. While there, I saw your mother for the last time. 

“It turns out that my hiding place had become her den. In the season or so since I had last seen her, she had given birth to three kits, you, your brother, and a sister. She never mentioned who the father was. The third kit—your sister—had already died from the cold when I found her.”

Mistystar’s heart wrenched when she realized what he was talking about.  _ Mosskit.  _ Her little sister, the tiny kit who would always be following Snowfur and Bluestar around in Starclan. She had never gotten to know her very well. As she thought about the cheerful little kitten, a pang of regret poked her heart. That was something she found herself regretting. Who knew when she would have the chance to see Mosskit again?

Oakheart continued, not noticing Mistystar’s wince. 

“Something had happened since I had last seen her. Your mother was afraid of something—for you and Stonefur, of course, but also something else. She wouldn’t tell me what. She asked me whether life in Riverclan was going well, and I answered that yes, it was, though the cold had caused a lack of prey. As the storm began to die down, your mother told me to take you and Stonefur to Riverclan, to raise you as my own. She wouldn’t take no as an answer, and said that she could no longer care for you, and that she didn’t want you and Stonefur to die as your sister had. So when night fell and the storm stopped, I took you and your brother to Riverclan, while your mother left the Riverclan border. I never saw her again. Graypool agreed to raise you, and I made sure that you both would grow up as great assets to your clan, which, of course, you have excelled above and beyond in. I have watched over you both ever since.”

Mistystar said nothing as Oakheart ended his story. She continued to walk in step with Oakheart, thinking about the half-lie he had told her. Part of her wanted to ask her father what parts of the story he had just told her were true or false, but that was out of the question. She would sift through the story later.

It was kind of ironic. She had told him a half-lie, and he responded with one in turn.

“What was her name?” She finally asked.

Oakheart blinked, then replied, a tinge of sorrow in his voice.

“Her name was Moss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, the story Oakheart tells Mistystar is false, but it's based off of what really happened. Oakheart can't exactly go around telling her she's half-clan, after all.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or in which I have no idea how this came to be. Help.

_ Warmth was the first thing Curled Bramble felt. It was such a foreign feeling, especially since the leaf-bare that had settled over the lake, that it alone nearly startled him awake. _

_ Moss tickled his nose, making him twitch his ear in slight annoyance, but it wasn’t enough to waken him. He hadn’t slept so well in moons, and something was telling him to savor the moment, so he did, relaxing even further with a sigh. _

_ Something moved nearby; he could hear the soft padding of footsteps, but Curled Bramble wasn’t worried. It was so… nice here. He could relax, and a voice whispered in the back of his mind to go back to sleep, to go back to the welcoming darkness that tickled the back of his consciousness, but he resisted for the moment, happy to dance the line between true sleep and the light doze that he had been playing for some time now; though he couldn’t tell for how long. There simply was no sense of time here. _

_ “Curled Bramble. Curled Bramble, it’s time for you to wake up.” _

_ Dappled Shade’s voice whispered through the breeze, but the tom ignored his mate’s voice. Why should he wake up? He was so comfortable…  _

_ “Curled Bramble, Ivy Leaf’s ceremony is about to begin! Hurry up or we’ll miss it!” _

_ Something was nudging him in the side now, not sharp enough to hurt, but enough that it was annoying. Curled Bramble growled softly, wanting to stay in the limbo he had been balancing in. It was so nice and peaceful, why did he need to wake up? _

_ Dappled Shade’s voice sounded again, this time more annoyed. _

_ “Curled Bramble, if you do not get up this instant I will tell Reddening Sun of the time you impersonated him and acted like a dumb badger! Now get up!” _

* * *

Bramblestar’s eyes snapped open, then immediately closed them again as the harsh light burned his retinas. Suddenly, the dark feeling that had enveloped him vanished, leaving the cool grass prickling his belly uncomfortably, and his muscles stiff and sore, as if he hadn’t used them in seasons. He coughed as he sucked in a large mouthful of air, his lungs contracting painfully, unused to taking in such large breaths at a time.

After a moment, his coughs died down, and Bramblestar cracked his eyes open to the width of a sliver, now wary of the bright light that awaited him in the outside world. He sat up, his bones creaking and cracking like an elder’s. Little by little, he opened his eyes more and more until they were as open as they could be. 

He was in a small cave. There was a wide opening on the other side of the hollow, and a small pool in the center, its watery contents glittering like stars. Grass lined the bottom of the cave, and a soft lichen covered the walls.

Bramblestar gasped as the memories of the his last moments of consciousness rushed back to him. He had been in Thunderclan, something had happened to make him die… 

“Wh… Where am I?” he choked out, his voice scraping in his throat from disuse.

“It’s good to see you again, Brambleclaw.”

Bramblestar whipped around in surprise, immediately regretting it as a painful  _ snap _ cracked across his spine. He winced, licking part of his ruffled pelt. Looking up, he came face-to-face with the one who had spoken to him.

And froze.

Sitting next to him, her pelt glittering with stars, was Spottedleaf.

Bramblestar gasped for the second time as he fully turned around, this time more slowly, and stepped forwards, touching noses with the famous Thunderclan medicine cat. Spottedleaf purred as they pulled back, looking extremely pleased.

“Spottedleaf? But—how—?” He stuttered, at a loss for words.

“I’m sure you have many questions,” the tortoiseshell cut him off. “But we are still waiting for another to awaken. She should be waking soon as well, so we’ll save the questions for when she comes to.” She gestured with her tail to several forms laying around the lake, all asleep.

Bramblestar started again—really, that’s all he had been doing since he had woken up—as he recognized Lionblaze and Jayfeather sleeping side by side, their pelts brushing, and around a tail-length away he noticed Ivypool, her paws curled underneath herself.

Next to where he had been lying was the cat Spottedleaf had gestured to. He didn’t recognize her like he did the others. She was definitely the oldest cat here, and was a brown-and-cream tabby. Bramblestar frowned, about to ask Spottedleaf who this mystery cat was, when she began to stir.

Like he had just several heartbeats before, the she-cat awoke suddenly, her lungs sucking in a deep breath before she started coughing. Spottedleaf stepped forwards, licking the she-cat on the ear reassuringly. After a moment, she opened her eyes, taking in the scene around her, and began to panic.

“Mintfur!” She exclaimed, not seeming to see Spottedleaf or Bramblestar. “Hurry! The kits—!”

“Leafstar!” Spottedleaf exclaimed, nudging the she-cat worriedly. “You’re safe. There is no danger here.”

The she-cat—Leafstar, Bramblestar noted, deciding to push the millions of questions he had swimming in his head to the side for the moment—blinked, and immediately began to try and stand up, looking up to Spottedleaf.

“Spottedleaf?” Leafstar questioned. “Where are we? I was in the gorge—there was a fox—Mintfur’s kits—”

“Calm down,” Spottedleaf murmured. “I’m sure the kits are fine. You’re a little disoriented. There is nothing you can do for them now.”

Leafstar frowned, still looking slightly shaken, and stretched, her amber gaze turning onto Bramblestar.

“Who are you?” She questioned, then looked over to Ivypool, Lionblaze, and Jayfeather’s sleeping forms. “Who are all of you? What’s going on? I was fighting a fox, then I suddenly felt like I was drowning, though I was nowhere near the river. I fainted, then woke up here.”

“It’s a very long story,” Spottedleaf responded. “I’ll start with the basics. This is Brambleclaw, deputy of Thunderclan. Brambleclaw, this is Leafstar, leader of Skyclan.”

Bramblestar started— _ again _ —but found it in himself to interrupt. “Bramblestar,” he corrected Spottedleaf. “Firestar died soon after you had, from his wounds.”

The old medicine cat sighed, but nodded to herself as if she had expected that, while Leafstar turned her gaze on him again, her eyes shocked—and was that grief in there? The two looked to Spottedleaf after a moment, both silently asking the same question. The old medicine cat sighed.

“You want to know where you are and what happened, correct?” Spottedleaf asked, and upon receiving two nods, continued. “Well, if I am completely honest, I have only the vaguest idea. I know that we are in the afterlife, though not in Starclan. I know that we are in the past. And I know that the two of you have been reborn. Soon, you will be returning to your bodies in the mortal world.”

Silence. Bramblestar couldn’t think of what to say, and Leafstar seemed to be just as lost as he was. Spottedleaf continued to explain.

“I can’t tell you how we’ve gone back in time, or what your purpose is, but there also isn’t enough time to tell you both everything that I do know. I can tell you most of it, but both of you can’t ask questions. I don’t have the time.”

Something seemed almost… desperate with the tortoiseshell she-cat, enough to worry Bramblestar, but he kept his mouth shut, determined to know everything that he could.

“Leafstar, you do not know this, but I died—spiritually—some time ago, in a battle. Bramblestar can tell you more later. When my soul died, it became one with…” Spottedleaf flicked an ear. “A sort of entity, one that ecompasses everything we know. It’s very difficult to explain unless you’ve gone through what I have. I call it Light. Anyways, something happened to this Light, around a moon or so ago. Whatever happened, it caused you two and the three here, their names are Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Ivypool, Leafstar, to go back in time, and to separate me from Light. Essentially, my spirit was brought back to a consciousness. I’m not sure how far back in time we’ve gone—I have little contact with the mortal world and none with Starclan, so I scarcely have the idea of where we are now.

“What I do know is that Lionblaze, Jayfeather, and Ivypool currently don’t have bodies; you can’t waken them; I’ve already tried. I believe that they are waiting to be reborn, as you two have just been, which is why you’re awake now. Soon, your bodies and spirits will merge, during which you will leave this place and enter your new bodies. When you arrive, I will ask you not to attract attention to yourselves. I doubt anyone would believe your story anyways. Now we must hurry. We have only heartbeats until you return to your bodies.”

Spottedleaf took a breath after the quick explanation, and stepped forwards, tapping her nose on Leafstar’s.

“On behalf of Starclan, I bless you, Leafstar, for your rationality and adaptability. Use your strengths well, and I’m sure you will succeed in what you’ve been tasked to do.”

Leafstar shuddered, and once Spottedleaf removed her nose from hers, the Skyclan leader began to fade. Bramblestar barely had time to register what had happened before she was gone and Spottedleaf had turned to him, her warm amber eyes meeting his own.

“I don’t understand—” he murmured, his tail flicking about. Spottedleaf chuckled.

“You don’t have to,” she smiled. “I certainly don’t. But that’s what makes life interesting, no?” She paused for moment to let the words sink in, then touched her nose with his. “On behalf of Starclan, I bless you, Bramblestar, for your loyalty and empathy. Use your strengths well, and I’m sure you will succeed in what you’ve been tasked to do.”

A burst of pain spasmed Bramblestar’s muscles, and he gasped, feeling as though he was back in his leadership ceremony, receiving a particularly hard life.

“I’ll be watching both of you,” Spottedleaf’s voice echoed in his ears as the cave began to fade around him. “I won’t be able to help you, but know that I will keep your clanmates here safe.”

And then the cave vanished completely, replacing by a whirling darkness. There was no light, no sound, nothing to touch. Bramblestar tried to speak, to fill the void with  _ something _ , but nothing came out of his mouth. He was completely alone. Then, abruptly, pressure returned with a vengeance, crushing the air out of his lungs and keeping him from breathing. Pain prickled his fur like thorns, squeezing his body and covering him like a blanket. The feeling became worse and worse, until Bramblestar was certain that Spottedleaf had made some sort of mistake and he was doomed to die in this nothingness. 

And then, finally, mercifully, everything went black.

* * *

“When will he open his eyes? It’s been such a long time!”

“Hush, Graykit! Just because Brackenkit and Brightkit are awake doesn’t mean you can wake up the others! If you want to be loud, go play outside. I’m sure Ravenpaw could teach you some hunting moves.”

“But it’s been so long! Everyone but Leafkit and Bramblekit have opened their eyes. When will they?”

“Quiet, Graykit!”

Bramblestar’s muscles twitched as he slowly came to consciousness. He felt extremely sore and more than a little tired, but it was nothing compared to the agonizing pain and pressure he remembered just before he had passed out. He felt warm, with a large body and several smaller ones pressed next to his. His eyes were sealed shut, and he felt… weak. Compressed. The sensation was hard to put into words.

He shifted, trying to get a sense of where he was. Was Leafstar here? Or had she been reborn somewhere else?

The air around him was saturated with milk-scent, along with several other cat-scents. Taking in a deep breath, he realized breathed in the more potent cat-scent. Though he didn’t immediately recognize it, it triggered a sense of peace and comfort inside of him. Most of the other scents he couldn’t recognize either, but he could catch a whiff of Graystripe’s scent in the air.

Bramblestar moved again, opening his mouth to say something, but all that came out was a pitiful mew. His ears burned in embarrassment at the sound.

“Bramblekit’s awake! Maybe he’ll open his eyes now!”

“Last chance, Graykit.”

“Sorry.”

Bramblestar frowned, and tried to open his eyes, much like the cat—Graykit—was whining about him to do, but couldn’t. Frowning, he tried again, this time being successful.

Light flooded his retinas, and like waking up in the cave with Spottedleaf, he had to blink them several times to adjust them to the dim light. Looking around, he realized that he was a den, cuddled against a much larger cat. He turned his head to try and get a look at the cat’s face, gasping when he did.

Frostfur’s kind face stared back at him, her large, blue eyes filled with warmth. Bramblestar started, trying to stand up, when he realized his body was a lot, lot smaller than he was used to. Looking down at him, he saw a kit’s body. What was this?

Oh.

_ Oh. _

_ Mouse-brain! _ Bramblestar face-pawed himself mentally.  _ Of course _ he was a kit! Spottedleaf herself had said that he had been reborn. Not “born,” he realized, but  _ re _ born. Some part of him had automatically assumed that he would be born again to Goldenflower, but that clearly wasn’t the case here. He really needed to be more open-minded.

“Hi, Bramblekit!” Graykit’s eager voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “I’m Graykit! It’s good to have another friend here!”

Bramblestar turned around to see an extremely young version of Graystripe, his kitten-soft furred fluffed up as the gray kit grinned down at him, obviously extremely excited. Not knowing what to say, he just stared right back at him.

“It’s alright, little one,” Frostfur purred, bending over and licking him gently between the ears. “It’s nice to see you finally opening your eyes. Now, we only have to wait for your sister.”

“Sister?” Bramblestar echoed.

“Your siblings, Bramblekit,” Frostfur responded. “Leafkit is right next to you. She’s the only one that hasn’t opened her eyes yet. You have two other sisters, Cinderkit and Brightkit, and two brothers, Thornkit and Brackenkit.”

Bramblestar blinked again, saying nothing, deciding to stay silent and try to process everything that had happened. He was so tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. The last few sunrises had been so hectic, and part of him just wanted to run away from the daunting task ahead of him. 

Next to him, a body moved, a paw sticking into Bramblestar’s side painfully. He squeaked, annoyed, then flattened his ears, embarrassed. Turning away from Frostfur, he looked to his other side to see a miniature version of Leafstar awakening, stretching out her legs as she did so. 

“Leafkit!” Graykit exclaimed, though he had the sense to stay quiet this time around. The kit—Leafstar, Bramblestar corrected himself—mewed, and scrunched up her her face, obviously trying to open her eyes. Bramblestar couldn’t help but snort quietly as she did so. The older leader that he had seen only heartbeats earlier looked so cute as a kit that it was funny.

“You can do it, Leafkit!” Frostfur cheered her on. Leafstar flicked an ear but otherwise didn’t react to her “mother’s” encouragement.

Finally, the eyelids separated with a “pop,” and Leafstar’s eyes finally opened, her amber orbs flickering as she blinked to get used to the light. Bramblestar himself kept his gaze on her until Leafstar turned towards him, their eyes locking.

And suddenly, he didn’t feel so overwhelmed anymore.

* * *

“Mistyfoot! I need you to go fishing today. Go and get another cat and try and find a couple fish.”

Mistystar’s head snapped up from where she had been grooming her blue-gray fur and towards Oakheart, who was organizing the sunhigh patrols. Startled, she blinked, before nodding to her father, who flicked an ear in response before turning to Blackclaw and his new apprentice, Silverpaw. Mistyfoot turned away from them, deciding to finish grooming herself before finding a cat to take with her on the patrol. 

Thankfully, Oakheart had only mentioned her meeting with Dustpelt to Crookedstar, who had confined her to camp for a couple sunrises, but otherwise she had gotten off quite lightly.

Mistystar shook herself a bit as she licked her paw to finish off her face, and stood up, sweeping her gaze across the camp to find someone to go hunting with. Blackclaw and Silverpaw were out of the question, as Oakheart had asked them to go on patrol; as she watched, they joined up with Frogleap and Skyheart on their way out of camp. Leopardstar— _ fur _ —Reedtail, and Whiteclaw were out training their apprentices, and Stonefur had gone out with Sunfish and Graypool to go hunting himself.

“Mind if I go with you?”

Mistystar yelped, surprised, then whipped around, coming nose-to-nose with a tom with brown fur, highlighted with black paws and ears, along with sparkling green eyes. The former Riverclan leader jumped backwards, flattening her ears. 

“Eagleheart!” She exclaimed. “Don’t do that!”

The black-and-brown tom just purred, grinning. “A bit stiff today, aren’t you?”

Mistystar frowned, licking her ruffled chest furs. “Really? Very funny.”

The tom, Eagleheart, just flicked an ear, still smiling. “You’re way too easy to scare,” he teased.

Mistystar brushed past the tom, annoyed, but he immediately bounded after her, falling into step next to the blue-gray she-cat. Mistystar let out a breath, calming down as she turned towards the camp entrance. If there was one thing Eagleheart was, it was stubborn. Most of the time she wished that he just would go away, though. She’d been avoiding him since she had come back for a reason.

“Want to go to the Thunderclan border?” He asked, jumping into the stream and swimming easily over to the other side.

“Sure, why not?” She shrugged, following the black-and-brown tom’s lead. Eagleheart grinned, nudging her with his shoulder.

“You have to lighten up,” he said. “You’ve been so mopy this moon. Come on! You’ve just been made a warrior!”

Mistystar chuckled, despite herself, and Eagleheart grinned even more. The pair began to walk towards the river dividing Thunderclan and Riverclan, falling into a comfortable silence.

Well, it probably was for Eagleheart. Mistystar, on the other hand, was lost in a torrent of memories.

She remembered Eagleheart from her previous life. It was hard to forget him; the charming, charismatic tom who wouldn’t leave her alone. Stonefur had teased her endlessly about him when they were apprentices, and once she had become a warrior, he had become the father of her four beautiful kits. He had been such a wonderful father and a protective mate. 

In the end, it had been his downfall.

_ “No! You won’t hurt them!” _

_ Mistyfoot looked up from the cave where she, Stonefur, Featherpaw, and Stormpaw had been imprisoned in. The opening was mostly covered by Jaggedtooth’s large body, but she crouched down, just able to see the scene happening outside her prison.  _

_ Eagleheart was being restrained by two Shadowclan toms, his fur matted and the whites of his eyes bulging with rage and desperation. Mistyfoot gasped as she caught sight of her mate; she had never seen him so… unhinged before. _

_ And then she saw why. _

_ Coming into view was Tigerstar himself, followed closely behind by his deputy, Blackfoot. Behind them were three more Shadowclan warriors she didn’t recognize, with three smaller forms between them; a black tom, a mottled gray tom, and a creamy brown she-cat, all cowering in terror.  _

_ “Primrosepaw! Pikepaw! Reedpaw!” She screeched in horror, her fur standing on end as she tried to shove her way past Jaggedtooth, trying to find her way to her three kits. Her family seemed to hear her, as Eagleheart began to struggle even more against his captors, spitting as he attempted to try and reach his family. Primrosepaw’s face snapped up at Mistyfoot’s voice, hope lighting into the young she-cat’s eyes as she frantically searched for the source of her mother’s voice.  _

_ Tigerstar flicked his tail, annoyed, and one of the Shadowclan toms holding back Eagleheart struck him, hard, in the face. The black-and-brown tom staggered, gasping for breath as blood began to drip down his cheek from the new claw marks. Mistyfoot gasped, and tried to shove past Jaggedtooth again, but he was well-fed and strong where she was malnourished and weak, and thus was easily able to repel her. _

_ Another pelt brushed next to her’s, and Mistyfoot looked to her side to see Stonefur squeezing in next her. He ran his tail soothingly along her back, and sent her a reassuring look, though she could see the undercurrents of fear and anxiety in his eyes.  _

_ Sometimes Mistyfoot really loved her brother, who was so ready to lay down everything for her. _

_ “Eagleheart!” Tigerstar’s voice rang out into the cave, causing Mistyfoot to snap her gaze back to the scene outside. _

_ Eagleheart shook his head, sending droplets of blood everywhere, and stopped struggling to look up at the Tigerclan leader, sending him a look of such loathing and hatred that it made Mistyfoot pause. She didn’t even know it was possible for her mate to hate someone that much. He was just too empathetic. _

_ “Is it true that you are mates with Mistyfoot, the half-breed kit of Bluestar and Oakheart?” Tigerstar continued, seemingly unfazed by Eagleheart’s blatant hostility.  _

_ Eagleheart snorted. “Of course! And if you lay one claw on her I will take every one of your nine lives myself.” _

_ Tigerstar flicked an ear dismissively. “You will have one chance, Eagleheart. Will you renounce your family ties with Mistyfoot and her kits and become a loyal warrior of Tigerclan? Or will you side with the traitors and share their fate?” _

_ “What do you want with my kits?” he hissed, flattening his ears. Primrosepaw, Pikepaw, and Reedpaw huddled even closer together, their eyes wide with terror, making Mistyfoot’s heart clench. Stonefur sent her a fearful glance, but stayed silent and calculating, much like the clan deputy he had been up to a few sunrises ago. _

_ “They have Thunderclan blood,” he shrugged. “One chance, Eagleheart.” _

_ “Never!” He hissed. _

_ “Kill the kits, Darkstripe,” Tigerstar commanded, and Mistystar screeched in horror as Eagleheart yowled in protest. Pikepaw screeched in protest, and despite just barely being over six moons old, shoved himself protectively in front of his siblings. Mistyfoot’s ears flattened, and she shoved herself even harder into Jaggedtooth, Stonefur at her side. Annoyed, the ginger tabby tom turned and shoved Mistyfoot down into the ground. _

_ The Riverclan warrior’s face smashed into the dirt, and she grunted, her fur spiking up. She glimpsed Featherpaw and Stormpaw huddling in a corner, shivering in fear, but she could pay them no mind when her kits were in danger. _

_ Suddenly, a screech sounded outside the den, and Mistyfoot scrambled back to the opening, where Stonefur was still trying to get past the stocky Jaggedtooth. Mistyfoot ducked down again to see Pikepaw bleeding out onto the grass below, his throat slit. Darkstripe stood triumphantly over him, one paw stained a dark red. Primrosepaw and Reedpaw shrunk down even more, and Eagleheart roared in fury and grief, struggling even harder again against the Shadowclan cats holding him back. _

_ Something in Mistyfoot broke, seeing Pikepaw’s body bloody on the dirt and her two remaining kits huddled together. Perchkit’s prone body, dead from the Greencough that had ravaged his tiny little body, flashed before her eyes. The queen’s vision turned red, and she shoved herself with impossible strength against Jaggedtooth, finally making the tom stumble, and darted out past him as soon as she saw her opening.  _

_ She launched herself onto the closest cat she saw, which was a black-and-white she-cat next to Reedpaw. Baring her fangs, the queen raked her claws across the she-cat’s face, yowling in rage. In the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Stonefur shoot out after her, and begin to battle Jaggedtooth.  _

_ But Mistyfoot was focused only on getting to her kits. As she dodged a paw from the she-cat, she raced past the Shadowclan warrior and toward her kits. She bowled over Darkstripe, who had begun to charge towards Reedpaw, protecting the black apprentice. _

_ “Reedpaw! Primrosepaw!” She screeched as loud as she could. “Run! Run and don’t look back!” _

_ Darkstripe took advantage of her distraction, tackling her again, and Mistyfoot rolled over, attempting to crush the other warrior, but Darkstripe was much stronger and flipped her onto her back instead. Gritting her teeth, she swiped at him across the cheek. _

_ “Stop!” _

_ Eagleheart’s screech made everyone in the small clearing pause. Mistyfoot wriggled out of Darkstripe’s hold, feeling a cold tendril of fear curl in her belly. _

_ Tigerstar. She had almost forgotten about the self-proclaimed Tigerclan leader. He had Primrosepaw trapped under his paws, the cream-brown she-cat desperately trying to free herself. Mistyfoot felt a small twinge of relief as she realized that Reedpaw was gone. _

_ Growling, Tigerstar wasted no time slitting Primrosepaw’s throat. Mistyfoot screamed, her voice hollow with grief, while Eagleheart tore himself out of Blackfoot’s grip to attack the Tigerclan leader. However, the Shadowclan deputy had given him horrible wounds, and it was easy for him to take down the Riverclan warrior and kill him with a blow to the throat. _

_ Tigerstar growled, blood dripping from his claws as he glared at Mistyfoot, who was frozen in horror at the bodies of her kits and mate on the ground. _

_ “Take them back inside,” Tigerstar hissed to Jaggedtooth, who has stopped mid-fight with Stonefur. “The kits are out of the way. We’ll deal with the rest later, with Leopardstar.” _

_ Mistyfoot did not put up a fight as she was dragged back into the dark. _

_ Reedpaw. The thought of her last kit was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. At least Reedpaw was alive. _

“Mistyfoot! Are you even listening to me?”

Mistystar blinked, the last wisps of the flashback fading away, and realized she was standing paw-deep in river water. Shaking herself, the blue-gray she-cat quickly stepped out of the water, her ears heating up as she did so. She hadn’t realized that she had came all the way to the river already, caught up in the unpleasant memories.

“Oh,” she murmured quietly. Eagleheart frowned, stepping beside her as she began to pad along the bank to find a better place to fish. She had been avoiding the tom for a while because of the darn memories that came whenever she was with him. Now she had made a complete fool of herself. 

“Are you alright?” Eagleheart asked, his pelt brushing hers. Mistystar said nothing, despite the fact that she knew it would worry her friend (past/future mate? This was so confusing). “Mistyfoot?”

“Yeah…” She trailed off, finding a small rise by the bank that could hide their shadows. “Just… haven’t been sleeping very well, I suppose.”

Eagleheart frowned, but said nothing, just deciding to situate himself next to Mistystar and raise a paw as they prepared to fish. They stayed like that for some time, before a flash of silver caught Mistystar’s eye, and her paw flashed out, hooking a large trout on her claws. It landed on the riverbank with a  _ thud _ and Mistystar killed it with a swift bite to the neck.

“Good catch,” Eagleheart commented, his amber eyes locking with her blue orbs. He frowned again when he received no reply. “Mistyfoot? Are you really alright? This isn’t like you. Usually you would’ve said something by now.”

Mistystar flicked an ear, hesitant to say anything, and eventually decided she had to say something before the black and brown tom went running to Oakheart and he became even more suspicious of her odd behavior.

“I told you,” She sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I had nightmare a couple sunrises ago. It’s just been bothering me.”

Eagleheart frowned. “You want to talk about it?” He pressed gently. Mistystar turned her gaze back on to the water.

“No.”

_ “No! You won’t hurt them!” _

Mistystar tried to force the echoes of Eagleheart’s screams to the back of her mind.

She wasn’t successful.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might add the notes for my plans to this story in an extra chapter. Thanks for reading, and if anyone wants to adopt this, let me know!

Dustpelt brushed through the undergrowth, his brown fur unkempt and messy from a day of hard work. He hadn’t thought to groom himself yet. The day had been hectic. On the sunrise before, Thunderclan had lost their claim to Sunningrocks. Thunderclan had been a hustle all day, patrols being sent out and such. It had been the first time Thunderclan had lost a battle since before Dustpelt had been born. However, that wasn’t why Dustpelt was so distracted. For him, the loss of Sunningrocks had a much bigger consequence than just losing a record.

Tigerclaw was going to kill Redtail in the morning, and Dustpelt didn’t feel ready at all.

He hardly paid attention to the trail he had made on his way to Firestar’s Twoleg house, the reality that he was about to lose his mentor again—and willingly—weighing down his paws.

After what seemed like moons, he finally came up to the wooden fence that signalled the boundary between Thunderclan territory and the Twolegplace. Dustpelt hardly even had to think as he strode up to one of the Twoleg nests and leapt up on top of it, scanning the garden for a sign of his former leader and friend.

After a moment, a ginger flash of fur caught Dustpelt’s eye, and the former warrior glanced down to see Firestar come into view from under a large bush, shaking the excess dirt off of his pelt.

“It’s good to see you, Dustpelt,” Firestar mewed, jumping up onto the fence to meet his old friend. His tone was oddly stiff and formal, though it had become normal for the two of them since the fiasco that had happened on the Riverclan border a half moon ago. Neither of them had talked much about Firestar’s outburst about Thunderclan, mostly because Dustpelt he had absolutely no idea on how to approach it.

“You too, Firestar,” he responded to his old friend. “Thunderclan lost Sunningrocks yesterday. You should be ready to be accepted into Thunderclan any day now.”

Firestar only nodded, saying nothing, and Dustpelt sighed. He’d been like this for a while now. Though the former leader had been bursting with energy when they had first came, now he had become more introverted after he had come to the “realization” that Thunderclan wasn’t the same clan he had been watching over in Starclan.

Dustpelt found himself growling, getting annoyed by the way Firestar was acting. Frankly, this behavior was ridiculous! This cat had saved the clans countless times, and here he was moping around like a sad kit. Dustpelt felt mild anger prickle under his pelt. For Starclan’s sake! He was tired, sore, and extremely guilty from everything that he had been doing in Thunderclan, and Firestar had the gall to feel bad that they weren’t dealing with the same  _ cats _ here?!

“What’s wrong with you?” he finally hissed, flattening his ears. Firestar blinked, obviously surprised, before looking out into the forest, as if trying to pinpoint a threat that he couldn’t see.

“What?” The ginger kitten replied, finding nothing in the forest.

“You!” Dustpelt spat, a full two moons of stress finally spilling over. “For Starclan’s sake, Firestar, you’re being a mouse-brain! Moping around like this isn’t going to change anything. Get up and act like the leader of Thunderclan for a change. Starclan, act like the leader of Lionclan! What happened to the cat who lead us into battle so many times?”

Firestar blinked, and his fur fluffed up, and Dustpelt worried that his outburst had pushed him too far (again). However, the ginger tom sighed, looking back out over the forest, flattening his ears. He suddenly looked very old, and his emerald eyes betrayed the vast age he hid behind his six-moon-old body.

“I just…” He sighed again, and said nothing more. Dustpelt felt his own anger seep out of his paws, knowing that it was the only the stress of the battle of Sunningrocks that had angered him in the first place.

“You’re going to have to tell me now,” he pressed gently. “This will be our last chance to talk in private for a long time. Now or never.”

There was a long pause as Firestar refused to meet his gaze, instead opting to look out over the forest. Dustpelt sat patiently, his moons of experience as a father showing as he waited for him to finally crack and explain this ridiculous notion of his.

“They’re not the same!” He finally burst out. “I just… I don’t know!”

He crouched down, his green eyes brimming with so many emotions that Dustpelt couldn’t bring himself to name even one. His collar jangled in the nighttime air, ringing treacherously into the darkness and silence.

“I miss them!” Firestar continued, and Dustpelt said nothing, knowing that once he started he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. “Leafpool and Squirrelflight and Brackenfur and Bramblestar… they’re all gone. The Thunderclan we know is gone. They might not even be  _ born _ now. And Sandstorm will hate me, and Tigerstar is still at large, and we’re going to have to go through everything all over again.” His voice lowered to barely a whisper. “I hate being a kittypet; really, I do, but part of me doesn’t want to join the clans. I don’t want to face them. Spottedleaf, Lionheart, Bluestar, Ravenpaw… I’ve failed them all. I don’t want to see them.”

Dustpelt blinked, slightly surprised, but was more resigned than shocked. He wasn’t surprised. He had been struggling with his own pains while in Thunderclan, especially with Redtail and Ravenpaw. And Firestar, who had dedicated his whole life to his clan and had an instinctual love for helping others… it was probably ten times harder. Not to mention he was a kit, which made it harder to keep still.

The brown tabby sighed, leaning down and beginning to groom the top of Firestar’s head comfortingly.

“I know,” he spoke softly between licks. “And I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t hurting too. I miss Ferncloud, Thornclaw, and all of my kits. It’s hard training with Redtail, knowing that he’s going to die in the morning. We just shouldn’t think too hard about it. Maybe we can save Redtail. Maybe we can stop Tigerstar before he comes into power. Maybe everything will fall apart and we’ll die trying to fix everything. But we can’t give up. I’m sure you don’t want to either, Firestar.”

“I know,” The fire-colored tom sighed, letting himself be groomed. “I’m sorry. I’ve been acting unreasonably, haven’t I?”

“Yes,” Dustpelt chuckled softly. “But that’s completely normal. Mistystar and I, we’re not like you. You’re so attached to others, and thus we should’ve expected this reaction. This is harder for you, and that’s okay. We’re all weaker at some points. Besides, I’m fairly certain you could’ve beaten me to the ground back when we were in Starclan. Even now, you’re starting to get the upper hand in our training.”

“Tigerstar used to say that my empathy for others would be my downfall,” Firestar murmured in response. “Lionheart thought that I could go far with it.”

Dustpelt purred, drawing back and sitting up. “Well, maybe you shouldn’t listen to what one of the most evil cats the clans have ever seen has to say. You know Tigerstar hated you. Personally, I think listening to Lionheart would be a better idea.”

Firestar snorted, and Dustpelt noted happily that he seemed to be feeling better. 

“I’m not  _ that _ much of a mouse-brain,” he remarked.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Dustpelt responded. “Coming from the tom who was ready to march into Riverclan territory to find Mistystar when we didn’t even know she had followed us.”

“Quiet, you.”

The atmosphere lightened significantly, and Dustpelt felt a warmth blossom in his chest. He was extremely grateful to have Firestar as a friend. It was especially heartwarming to see him reverting more back into the leader of Thunderclan he was. 

“Do you want to save Redtail?”

Firestar’s question came out of nowhere, and Dustpelt blinked, surprised, and looked at him to continue.

“Why not?” The flame-colored tom pressed. “I mean, Saving Redtail would put Tigerstar’s plans back a lot, and from what I’ve been told about him, he was an amazing deputy and would’ve made a great leader. So why not?”

Dustpelt blinked slowly. It did make sense, he supposed, and he did have to admit that it was pretty tempting.

“But what about the future?” he questioned. “If we change too much, then we might not be able to stop things we don’t want to happen from happening, and—”

He stopped, his teeth clicking shut audibly as Firestar’s ears pricked upwards, the two of them stiffening as they swivelled almost simultaneously to face the forest. Just inside the treeline, Dustpelt could just barely hear the sound of a cracking twig and rustling leaves. Firestar crouched down, letting part of the wooden fence cover his body as Dustpelt scanned the forest for any sign of the eavesdropper. They both unsheathed their claws as a shape exited the undergrowth.

Graypaw’s eyes were as wide as saucers, the young apprentice looking completely shocked at what he was seeing. His fur—still kitten-soft; he had been apprenticed only the sunrise before—was fluffed out, and shone silver in the moonlight.

“What are you doing, Graypaw?” Dustpelt spoke first, relieved to hear that his voice hardly betrayed any of his inner panicking. “It’s late. How long have you been here?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Graypaw shot back, beginning to get over his initial shock. “You’re talking to a kittypet, Dustpaw! That’s against the warrior code! I knew I was onto something when I noticed you weren’t in the apprentice’s den!”

Dustpelt said nothing, and Firestar looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but there at the moment. Graypaw frowned, his pale yellow eyes accusatory.

“It’s… a very long story,” he finally sighed. “Look, I’ll tell you later. Can you just not mention this to Bluestar?”

“Too late, Dustpaw. We already know.”

The three cats jumped, startled, as three more figures exited the treeline. Dustpelt’s fur spiked along his spine as horror crept in his belly. Lionheart had his gaze on his new apprentice, looking slightly disappointed but otherwise pleased. Bluestar’s expression was near unreadable, her question hanging menacingly in the air. Redtail looked extremely disappointed, his tortoiseshell fur shining brown and silver in the moonlight. 

“Do have anything to say for yourself?”

It was Redtail who spoke first, sending a glance to Bluestar, no doubt wanting to discipline his own apprentice. Dustpelt himself simply said nothing, trying to figure out what to say. Firestar’s help was practically out of the question; the poor tom was practically vibrating with fear, his eyes glazed over and unseeing, all trace of his previous good mood gone. Shoving away his fear for his old friend, Dustpelt turned his eyes to his clanmates.

“We’re just… talking,” he finally answered his mentor’s inquiry, bending down to give his ruffled chest fur several licks. Under the cover of the fence, he whacked Firestar a couple times with his tail to get him responsive.

“Talking?” Was that just him, or did Redtail’s voice turn slightly more disapproving? Dustpelt ignored the guilt and regret coursing through his stomach as he continued.

“Yeah. Fire- _ Rusty  _ likes to hear about the forest. I met him a while ago.”  _ Wack.  _ “He showed interest in our way of life, and I thought it’d be a good idea to train him a little bit.”  _ Come on, Firestar, get moving! Help me out here! _ “It, um…” He was running out of good lies here. For some reason he had never made a plan for the chance he got caught visiting Firestar. “I tried chasing him out, and—”

“I fought back.”

The clan cats turned, Dustpelt in surprise, to Firestar. The flame-colored tom drew himself up, green eyes blazing with some sort of determination. Sure, it wasn’t out of loyalty or empathy, but Dustpelt didn’t mind that. Firestar was talking. That was a start.

“I fought back,” Firestar repeated. He seemed almost shocked himself that he was talking. “He beat me and I started running, but then I turned back and fought him. He asked why I did that, I asked who he was, and we just went from there.”

Redtail blinked, slightly surprised, while Bluestar seemed to have an almost thoughtful expression on her face. Lionheart had simply sat back, Graypaw at his side, watching the conversation with interest.

Dustpelt took a deep breath, and picked up where Firestar had left off. “We talked for a little bit, and Rusty was interested in clan life. He said he wanted to learn how to fight and hunt like us, so I just said yes, I suppose. We’ve been meeting every once in awhile ever since.”

Redtail frowned, but Dustpelt felt his hopes rising ever so slightly as Bluestar took a contemplative look on her face. It was obvious she was taking them seriously—just hopefully for the same reasons that she had the first time around.

“Come down here, you two,” Bluestar commanded. Shakily, Dustpelt did as he was told, Firestar following suit. They both landed easily on the forest floor and looked up at the ThunderClan leader as she continued. This time looking at Firestar. “How much do you know, young one?”

Firestar shifted, thinking about how to answer. 

“How to hunt,” he replied quietly. “I caught a mouse once. Just one; Dustpaw took it back to camp to say that it was his. We spar a bit too. He says that I’m getting close to his level, and I can beat the other kit— _ housecats _ pretty easily.”

“Defeating a kittypet is something very easy to do,” Lionheart remarked, eyeing him critically. No doubt he had noticed the fumble, but thankfully he didn’t comment on it.

“But training on a constant basis is not,” Bluestar added, deep in contemplation. “Especially if you have not been born in the wild and have no need for it.”

Redtail looked over at his leader, tilting his head in a question that Dustpelt could not decipher immediately. Bluestar twitched an ear and her deputy sent her a surprised look, before the expression faded back into one of acceptance. Once the exchange was over, Dustpelt let his eyes flicker over to Firestar, who seemed to be picking up more of the conversation than he was. 

“You are a very unusual kittypet, Rusty,” Bluestar remarked.

Firestar shrugged. “The other housecats say that too.” He looked up, locking eyes with his former/future mentor and leader. “Is survival here really so hard? Dustpelt was telling me about another Clan taking territory.”

The taking of Sunningrocks. Technically, they  _ had  _ spoken about that, as well as much more sensitive subjects. A lie of omission.

“Our territory covers only part of the forest,” Bluestar responded tartly, keeping her piercing blue eyes on Firestar until he looked away. “Late newleaf means less prey, and that means that the other clans are more likely to try and take our territory.”

“Do you really take care of each other?” Firestar pressed further. Bluestar’s eyes twinkled.

“Would you like to figure that out for yourself?”

Dustpelt started. Even though he’d been expecting for Firestar to be invited to the clan, he certainly hadn’t expected it to be like this. He let some of that surprise leak onto his face, knowing that it was appropriate for the situation. Graypaw had also gasped in surprise, while Lionheart blinked, sending Bluestar and Redtail a curious look. 

“Yes.” Firestar did not hesitate in his reply. Whatever hesitation he was surely feeling was being very expertly hidden. “Yes, I do.”

Bluestar’s eyes flashed, and she tilted her head. “Then come down. Dustpaw, your punishment will be decided later.” As the two toms did so, she bowed her head slightly to Firestar. “Rusty, welcome to Thunderclan.”


End file.
